


I Will Call You Home: A Recounting of the Fifth Blight

by AthenaTseta



Series: A Story of 1000 Words [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, Minor Original Character(s), Novelization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2018-09-20 11:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 163
Words: 392,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9488648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaTseta/pseuds/AthenaTseta
Summary: Once a proud hunter of the Sabrae clan, one young elf is ripped from her home to serve a cause bigger than any animal she had faced in the forest. After being thrown into the world of humans, Renya Mahariel ventures forth with the help of her unlikely companions to stem the tide of evil. But, as she is quick to realize, she is only one small elf in the middle of a large Blight.





	1. A Simpler Life (9:22 Dragon)

_9:22 Dragon_  
  
“Come on, Merrill. Hurry up!” hissed a voice from the shadows of a tree. A hand beckoned to an elf with black hair who had spun around at the sound.

“Renya?” the elf called back softly, her voice strained. She peered into the darkness of the forest. Dawn was only just breaking, and the shadows of the trees were still deep.

“Renya?” Merrill called again, a little louder. “Renya, come back here right now!” she demanded, pointing emphatically toward the ground at her feet. Her ears twitched in the direction of a soft sound behind her, and she spun again, searching the darkness between the trees. Finally, she saw two glints of green blink at her, and she sighed in exasperation.

The glints blinked again. “Alright, fine,” the shadow attached to them huffed. Another elf materialized out of the shadows, pushing her light brown hair out of her face. Her green eyes twinkled mischievously at her friend.

Merrill shook her head at Renya. “How do you do that?” she demanded. “How do you just disappear like that?”

Renya waved her hand dismissively, a smug smile creeping across her features. “I watch Elrerion when he leaves with a hunting party. Much the same way you began learning to wield a staff by watching Marathari,” she finished slyly.

“Renya, don’t you dare say anything about that to anyone!”

Renya smiled and gestured toward the empty forest. “Who would I tell? Now come on, I want to show you something and it’s important!”

But Merrill shook her head. “I was supposed to accompany you for your purifying ritual. Your vallaslin ceremony is in three days!” she said, pointing at her own forehead, her blood tattoo still dark from her ceremony the week before.

“I know,” Renya replied, suddenly solemn. She rubbed her forehead self-consciously. It was odd to think of herself as finally having the tattoos that signified adulthood. Admittedly, she was torn between feeling ready and being terrified that she wasn’t. Sighing, she looked at Merrill seriously. “It’s only a little out of our way,” she said softly. “Please, Merrill?”

Merrill startled at her friend’s sudden change in demeanor. It wasn’t like her to be so serious. Eventually she took a deep steadying breath and nodded. “Alright, lethallan. Where are we going?”

Renya brightened immediately and grabbed Merrill’s hand, pulling her forward a little. “This way!” she said excitedly. Merrill followed playfully.

“Hey, where are we going?” She couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s enthusiasm.

In lieu of a reply, Renya beckoned her friend on before melting into the forest again. This time, Merrill chuckled and followed suit, trailing behind her. The two elves made their way silently through the forest for a while. Merrill tried questioning Renya again, but Renya simply shushed her and led her deeper into the trees.

They continued for the better part of an hour when Renya suddenly turned, her eyes bright. “Are you ready?” Her smile faded. “Only… you can’t tell anyone.”

Merrill’s ears pricked up in interest, and she raised an eyebrow. She indicated the forest around them. “Who would I tell?”

Renya smiled and squeezed her hand briefly before gesturing at her to follow. Merrill studied at her friend closely. The bravado from before was gone; she looked almost apprehensive. Merrill turned her senses toward the forest, trying to discover what was affecting her. Soon, they reached a thick copse of trees with vines and branches tangled together. The two elves stopped and looked at it.

“What now, lethallan?” Merrill asked softly. Her friend’s face was set, resolute. Frowning, she put a hand on Renya’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” Renya shook her head as if to clear it, and set her jaw before reaching forward and pulling the branches apart. When the branches had been pulled back enough for an elf to fit through, Renya glanced at Merrill and motioned her in. Tentatively, the elf entered, stooping to fit through the small opening. She heard Renya clamber through behind her, then raised her eyes and gasped.

They were in a clearing, the forest floor covered in soft clover and the velvety halla grass the Dalish elves so loved. Merrill walked forward slowly, gaping at the scenery around her. A stream bubbled by, its clear blue water mirroring the sky. The trees that defined the perimeter of the clearing were dense enough to offer protection and shelter to the area, but not dense enough to hide predators. And the sky… the sky opened up above her, and the dark green of the trees seemed to reach up and touch it with their swaying leaves.

Renya was studying Merrill carefully. “Do you like it?” she whispered.

Merrill turned to her friend, eyes wide and smile wider. “Like it? This is… one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen,” she said earnestly. Her smile faded slightly. “But why all the secrecy, lethallan?”

Renya rubbed her forehead again. “I found this place a few weeks ago,” she began stiffly, not looking at Merrill. “I thought…” She sighed and didn’t say anything for a moment. Merrill waited, watching her friend interestedly. After a long silence, Renya looked up and met Merrill’s eyes in an attempt to seem off-handed. “I was just thinking that this place… it’s something that I thought would be nice to…” And just like that, she was losing steam again. “And it would… when the time comes… my bonding ceremony…” she rambled, voice and eyes dropping.

“Bonding?” Merrill asked, frowning in confusion. Then realization hit and she started to laugh. Renya, who had been continuing to mutter an explanation, was startled silent.

“What?” she asked defensively.

“Why, Renya,” Merrill began, grinning. “Who would have thought that you would be such a romantic?”

Renya opened her mouth, wavered, and then closed it again, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “So… you think this is an… acceptable place?” she asked.

Merrill gestured at the nature around them. “Of course. Who wouldn’t love it here?”

“You really think so, lethallan?”

“I do,” Merrill said earnestly. “Whoever you bond yourself to will love it,” she finished carefully, touching Renya’s shoulder lightly. A small smile crept across Renya’s face and Merrill mirrored it.

“…and I won’t tell anyone. Our secret,” Merrill added. Renya’s grin widened in relief.

“Ma serannas, lethallan.”

“…even though I can think of a few elves who would love to know you have a soft side,” she commented with a wink, looking almost sad. Renya slapped her on the arm, mumbling something at her. Merrill barreled on. “Who is the object of your affection, anyway?” Renya smiled awkwardly and looked away.

“No one,” she replied simply, shaking her hair out of her face. She stared pointedly at the babbling stream. “That’s why I wanted to show you. I had to tell someone; I was too excited to keep it to myself.

“It’s Tamlen, isn’t it?”

“What? No.”

“It is. You lie.”

“It’s not Tamlen. It’s... no, it’s not Tamlen.”

“Sure, sure,” Merrill said, solemnly nodding her head. Renya rolled her eyes. “Should I tell him?”

That earned her arm another smack. “It’s not Tamlen, but if you want to tell him that, go ahead.”

“Then who?”

Renya sighed.

***

Renya made a few more careful marks before holding up her piece of vellum triumphantly. “There,” she said to herself, pleased. Merrill looked over at the design and nodded in approval.

“You’ll look wonderful with those markings…” she murmured, thoughtfully rubbing her own fresh vallaslin.

“I hope the hahren approves.” Renya studied the vellum. “I would hate for her to postpone my ceremony again.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Merrill replied. She smiled teasingly. “It seems even the gods themselves fight for your attention.”

Renya chuckled awkwardly. It turned to a groan when she saw a few of the younger elves over by the fire, watching her.

“If you don’t like it, you shouldn’t be such a show off.”

“I wasn’t showing off!” Renya said indignantly.

Merrill arched an eyebrow at her. Renya bowed her head.

“I was showing off,” she mumbled.

“Have you finished your design, da’len?” The hahren knocked on the wooden post outside the door of Renya’s aravel, interrupting them.

“Yes, Hahren,” Renya said with a smile, rising to greet the elder. She offered her the drawing nervously. The hahren took it and studied it carefully. Silence hung in the little hut, and Renya tried to calm her nerves. She had spent all night combining the designs of devotion for Dirthamen and Ghilan’nain, and was rather pleased with the result. Dirthamen would cover the upper part of her forehead, reminding her to protect her thoughts and think before she acted, and Ghilan’nain would trace above her eyebrows and down the bridge of her nose, reminding her that leaders point their eyes in the direction they wish to go. It was strange to have two, but the hahren had allowed it.

After what seemed like an eternity, the hahren hummed with satisfaction. “This will do nicely, da’len,” she said, looking up at Renya. Renya smiled and bowed her head, proud that her first act as an adult had pleased the hahren.

“Ma serannas, Hahren.”

The hahren looked at her seriously. “Are you ready, da’len?”

“Yes, Hahren. I am ready,” Renya replied, her heart beating a little harder. This was it. She kept her face carefully neutral. But the hahren smiled.

“Tonight, then, you will complete the vallaslin ceremony.”

The hahren exited the aravel, and Renya turned to Merrill with excitement and apprehension. “Did you hear that?” she whispered. “Tonight!”

The day flew by, to Renya’s surprise. Before she had a chance to realize the sun was setting, Ashalle, her adoptive mother, was walking her to the ceremonial aravel.

“I’m proud of you, da’len,” Ashalle whispered when they had reached the door. She squeezed her daughter’s hand and kissed her forehead, knowing it was the last time she would see it clear of markings. “Until tomorrow, da’len.”

Renya opened her mouth to speak, but no words seemed able to come out. She tried again, taking a breath, but Ashalle shook her head and smiled, kissing her on the forehead again before turning and walking back through the camp.

It was up to her now, Renya realized. Tamlen had said knocking was the hardest part. Steeling herself, she raised a hand to knock on the post, when –

“Lethallan!”

Renya spun around, eyes wide. “Tamlen! You’re not supposed to be here!” she hissed.

“I know,” he whispered back guiltily. He rubbed his forehead, his brand-new vallaslin dark on his fair skin. “Just… good luck. Not that you’ll need it, you know? But… then we can be hunting apprentices together, right?” He raised his eyebrows.

Renya grinned, felling like herself for the first time in days. “Absolutely, Tamlen. We’ll be the most fearsome hunters this clan has ever seen!”

He smiled and coughed back a laugh. “Good.” With that, he turned and disappeared into the fast-growing shadows. Turning back to the door, Renya knocked smartly on the post without any more hesitation. The door opened, framing the hahren. She was in ceremonial robes.

“Andaran atish’an, da’len,” she said solemnly.

“Andaran atish’an, Hahren,” Renya replied, the smile slipping from her face. The hahren invited her inside with a wave of her hand, indicating a mat placed before a stone altar. Renya took a deep breath to steady herself. After she had knelt and offered a prayer to the creators, the hahren guided her to her feet and helped her to lie on the altar.

“Asan’noa annar, seventeen years, one for each Elvhen tribe of the lost city of Arlathan,” the hahren intoned. “We submit to the creator gods to guide us, that one day we shall find a new halamshiral.” She looked at Renya seriously. “You know you cannot cry out in any way before the ceremony is complete, yes, da’len?”

Renya nodded, her features set in determination.

“Then we shall begin the ceremony of vallaslin.”

“Ma nuvenin, hahren.”

Renya closed her eyes. She heard the soft plink as the jar of blood dye was placed on the stone next to her head. Her ear twitched at the sound, but she gave no other indication of noticing.

The hahren began to chant in Dalish, and Renya briefly thought that she should pay attention, until the chanting stopped and the first cut was made. Tamlen had told her the hardest part was knocking on the door, but he didn’t mention that getting the tattoo was the actual worst part. Renya clenched her jaw and forced herself to breathe. It was no use. Each cut was worse than the last, and the dye burned as it stained her skin. She could feel the mark of Dirthamen being carved into her, and she shut her eyes tighter, focusing on her breathing. After what seemed like an eternity, the pain stopped. Renya sighed in relief and was about to open her eyes when the hahren began chanting again.

Of course, Renya thought in a moment of clarity. Ghilan’nain was next. She hoped no one else would ever have to go through this kind of vallaslin ceremony ever again. Once more, the knife cut into her and the dye burned her, but she managed to stay silent, now biting the inside of her cheek. There was another pause, although this time Renya didn’t even bother to relax. The vallaslin still needed to be applied down the length of her nose.

That, if possible, was worse. Renya was sure she had never felt pain so intense in her life, and feared she would lose consciousness, when suddenly it was over.

“Rise up, Renya Mahariel,” the hahren said in the common tongue.

Renya opened her eyes, feeling one solitary tear trickle down her face. She had done it. She had endured the vallaslin and was now seen as an adult. An adult ready to apprentice and master a skill necessary for the clan’s survival.

“You did well, da’len,” the hahren said fondly.

“Ma serannas, hahren,” Renya replied, unable to conceal her smile.

“And,” the hahren added lightly, her eyes sparkling. “I understand you wish to apprentice as a hunter?”

“I-”

“I think we can arrange for you and Tamlen to train at the same time. We would not want to separate you two, now would we? The forest would then actually have a chance!”

Renya’s grin widened. “Ma serannas, Hahren. Ma serannas. A thousand times, ma serannas!”

“Go and rest, da’len. Your training begins tomorrow.” She clasped Renya’s hands briefly before the young elf sped out of the aravel. Chuckling, the hahren extinguished the candles and exited the aravel through a different door, back to her lodging.

Renya ran out the door and straight into Tamlen.

“And…?” he said, looking at her vallaslin.

“She said yes! I will be joining you tomorrow! Try not to be too intimidated…”

Tamlen laughed. “No, lethallan. I’ll do my best. Why don’t I help you get a pack ready for tomorrow, and you can explain your vallaslin to me?”

As she walked through the camp, talking animatedly to her best friend, Renya felt the pain in her forehead quickly disappearing. And she was going to be a hunter. With Tamlen, her lethallin. She sighed, smiling. Nothing could be better than this night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a slow start, but part of what drew me to Dragon Age: Origins were the origin stories. So we'll be exploring Renya's history a little more before delving into the story in the actual game.
> 
> Translations:  
> vallaslin - blood writing; the facial tattoos that Dalish receive upon coming of age  
> lethallan/lethallin - a close female (-an) or male (-in) friend, almost like family  
> hahren - Elvhen word for elder or keeper; a term of respect. May also refer to the head of the clan (Hahren Marathari)  
> ma serannas - thank you  
> ma nuvenin - it will be as you say/as you wish  
> da'len - a term of endearment for a child  
> andaran atish'an - a formal welcome ("welcome to my place of peace")  
> Arlathan - the Elvhen homelandprior to being sacked by humans  
> halamshiral - literally "end of long journey/walk"; refers to the Dalish finding a new homeland after the fall of the Dales/Arlathan  
> Elvhen - Literally "our heart"; but often translated as "The People." This is how the Dalish refer to themselves.
> 
> All characters belong to BioWare and EA, and I am just mucking about in their world. Renya is based on the Dalish origin story, so I take responsibility for her, and I also take responsibility for an upcoming original character. I'm sadly my own beta, so all mistakes are my own, as well. Thanks for reading, and all comments/suggestions are appreciated!
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out[AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com)for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	2. First Contact (9:25 Dragon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's an unlikely elf who can't shoot an arrow, and an unlikelier elf who lets a human live.

_9:25 Dragon_

“Fenedhis!” Renya cried. “Fenedhis lasa!”

Tamlen looked over and saw Renya staring at the weapon in her hands angrily. The bow was broken into two pieces. Tamlen sighed. Renya was skilled with her knives, but more bows had met their death in her hands than animals she hunted with them. They were no longer apprentices, either. It was luck that had enabled Renya to pass her test; nothing had broken that day, and she wasn’t a completely terrible shot. Two years as hunters and Renya was still destroying a bow every month or so. Tamlen sighed again. He had been making a bow for Renya and it was finally done, but now that the time had come to actually give it to her, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. After all, he had spent a long time on it, and had asked a lot of favors to bring it into existence. He didn’t want it to be added to the small cemetery of bows that Renya had accumulated.

“I think that’s enough practice for one day, Renya,” he said gently.

“I don’t understand, Tamlen! Why isn’t this any easier?”

Tamlen gently took the broken bow from Renya’s hands. “Lethallan, why don’t you come with me?” He walked away, not checking to see if she was following. Shaking his head, he hoped he had made the right decision. Andruil’s bow, he hoped he was making the right decision.

They reached Tamlen’s aravel and entered. He walked over to a long sack that was leaning against a chest and picked it up, keeping his back to Renya. He took a breath and nodded to himself before turning, smiling when he saw Renya looking at him with eyebrows raised and a bemused smile on her face.

“Tamlen?”

He handed the sack to her. “I want you to have this, Renya. I made it for you, with some help…” he trailed off. He watched as she took the item from him, puzzled, and gently removed the cloth. She gasped as she pulled the longbow out into the light. Made of dark vhenadahl wood, Renya could see the symbols of Andruil delicately carved into it. The grip was smooth and fit her hand perfectly, the wood graining swirling its pattern under her fingertips.

“Tamlen, it’s beautiful.” She looked at him seriously. “You made this for me?”

“Yes, I…” he shrugged. “I named it Breath of Falon’din.” He smiled at Renya’s face. Naming a gift after the god of death was odd, he supposed. “Because… no one can escape when Falon’din comes for them.” He laughed. “I thought you needed a nice bow to add to your collection.”

Renya was staring at the bow, testing the string, which twanged sweetly in the air. “Ma serannas, Tamlen. This will be the only bow I'll ever use again,” she said, touched.

“You should practice with it, you know,” Tamlen commented. “Master Ilen said that a bow like that needs to learn its master. You don’t want it confused all the time!”

“Hey, I’m not _that_ bad.”

In answer, Tamlen pointed out the door to the small pieces of wood they had been using as targets. His had seven arrows neatly in the middle of his target, but her target had ten arrows scattered around its tiny surface.

“What? I made a bulls-eye, didn’t I?” She grinned at him.

Tamlen looked at her incredulously, and then started laughing. “One! The wind must have taken it!”

“Well, hopefully the wind will take a lot more with this bow, then,” she shot back, waving it at him. “Ma serannas,” she said again, nodding. “I really do appreciate this.”

“Sathem. You’re welcome. Just promise me you won’t break it,” he said, smiling as Renya rolled her eyes. He indicated they should leave the aravel. “Are you going to go to the campfire yet?”

Renya glanced at the sky. There were still a few good hours of daylight left. She shook her head. “No, I think I’ll see just how deadly the Breath of Falon’din actually is.”

Tamlen nodded and moved on, watching his friend walk over to the targets and pull out the arrows. He turned his attention to the campfire and the young elf who smiled at him. She moved over on her log to make room for him as he walked over. As he sat down next to hear, he heard the distant thwacking of arrows hitting wood, and an occasional _whoosh_ -ing sound accompanied by a muttered curse. Shaking his head slightly, he accepted the bowl of wine offered to him by the woman sitting beside him.

***

_Somewhere in the Brecilian Forrest, near the Drakon River:_

The human had been patrolling her camp for a quarter of an hour when a rustle from the trees caught her attention. Peering into the darkness, she thought she saw two floating green glints hovering in the shadows. Deciding to leave her bow, and pulling out her dual daggers instead, she went to investigate.

The glints moved, and the bard followed almost noiselessly. The creature in front of her was moving completely silently, and if it weren’t for the shafts of moonlight she would have lost it entirely. In one such bit of light the woman noticed that the creature had pointed ears, and her heart thrilled at the thought.

 _An elf?_ Her heart sank again.

_A Dalish?_

She knew of the Dalish elves, and had respect for them, but also was very aware that the Dalish were dangerous toward humans in their forests. With a jolt, she wondered if the elf wanted her to follow it, and that was why it wasn’t simply disappearing into the trees as elves were known to do. She braced herself for a trap, cursing herself for being so careless.

Suddenly she felt herself pressed up against a tree by strong hands, with her arms pinned high above her head. The green glints were inches in front of her, and she was suddenly aware of the scent of the pine trees growing around them.

“Please,” she said softly. Her heart was racing. “I don’t mean you any harm.” She kept her voice steady even though she knew she was still gripping her daggers.

The elf tilted its head, studying her, but didn’t respond. That was probably a good sign...

“I… we are just traveling through. We are on our way to Amaranthine.” The young bard mentally kicked herself. But then again, who was this elf going to tell?

The eyes blinked and the woman wondered if the elf knew what “Amaranthine” was. “It’s a… human city north of here,” she explained kindly. “We didn’t know any Dalish lived here. Is this your forest?”

The elf responded with a scoff. “Nae, seth’lin shemlen. No,” it said, switching to the common tongue. “This is not our forest.” The woman listened with interest; she had never heard a Dalish accent before.

“But you live here, no?” She felt herself pressed a little more firmly into the tree. The green eyes were enchanting to her, and in the low light her gaze traveled to the pointed ears in spite of herself.

“You have strayed too close to our camp,” the elf said now. The human noted that the voice was female. “You must leave.”

“But we are weary, and…”

The elf twisted away, and suddenly the woman found herself released, but without her blades. They shone in the hands of the elf. Suddenly she was very afraid. No good bard was ever unable to evade a disarming. The ones who couldn’t hold onto their weapons often ended up dead.

“You must leave.” The elf’s eyes glinted dangerously in the dark.

“Please,” the bard said, offering her empty hands to the elf. The elf backed away quickly. “Please allow us to stay one night. We will do you no harm. I will not allow it.” Even in the dark the young woman could see the contempt on the elf’s face. Of course, she wouldn’t believe her.

Finally the elf sighed. “There is a diseased bear in this area.”

The woman nodded, not sure how she should respond.

“It is not safe for shemlen to be here.”

“Perhaps you would be willing to stay and watch over us tonight?” the bard asked with some charm, hoping flattery would twist the situation to her favor. “After all, a Dalish elf would be well-prepared for such danger. I am sure you are more than a match for it.”

The elf laughed, and the human felt hopeful for a moment before:

“I am not about to help any shemlen. Go back to your encampment. I will not bother you more tonight and will keep my clansmen away.” She hesitated. “As long as you do not come closer to our camp.”

“If you are not east or north of here, we will not.”

With a little more hesitation, the elf offered her the two daggers back. The bard took them and immediately sheathed them to reassure she was not a threat. They stared at each other for a few silent moments before the elf turned and started to walk away.

“Wait!”

The elf paused.

“I… I don't know the way back to my camp…” The bard hated to admit this, but it was true. The elf sighed with annoyance.

“Come,” she grunted, starting back the other way. They walked in silence until they came to the edge of the little clearing. The bard’s three companions were asleep.

“Thank you."

The elf startled. “Ir tel’him?” She blinked. “What did you say?”

“…thank you. For bringing me back.”

“Hm.” And with that, the elf disappeared back into the forest.

The young woman woke early the next day, stretching luxuriously. She stood and looked around, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her face. With a start, she saw a big bear lying dead near the entrance of the clearing, just hidden by the shadows of the trees. She stared at the enormous creature, its red-rimmed eyes no longer seeing the world.

Something green and out of place caught her eye. Leaning against a tree and blending in with the forest was an elf clad in green leather armor, half hidden in the shadows. She was loosely holding an arrow to her bow, as if on guard, and was watching the human with interest, her green eyes glinting. One of the human’s companions stirred, and when the young woman turned her attention back to the forest, the elf had vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting there, I promise! I'm thinking in about two more chapters we'll start seeing some familiar game (maybe DLC?) events, and then we'll be into the story proper. Comments and suggestions are always welcome! BioWare owns Dragon Age, but I own my mistakes.
> 
> Translations:  
> Fenedhis/Fenedhis lasa - a swear/a stronger swear. Literally refers to the reproductive organs of a male wolf  
> aravel - the landships the Dalish live in  
> vhenadahl - tree of the people. Wood from the vhenadahl tree is very strong  
> Andruil - Elvhen goddess of the hunt  
> Ma serannas - thank you  
> sathem - you're welcome  
> Nae - no  
> seth'lin - thin blooded (an insult)  
> shemlen - literally "quick children," referring to humans. Usually meant as an insult  
> Ir tel'him - literally "I'm not transforming anymore," but here is used to ask the person to repeat what they said (don't ask why that's the same phrase)  
> Falon'din - literally "friend of the dead;" the Elvhen god of death.
> 
> The bow named "Breath of Falon'din" is a nod to the bow named "Falon'din's Reach" from the Awakenings DLC. I liked the idea of "breath" better than "reach" because the difference between life and death is one breath, isn't it?
> 
> Also, Renya tends to not use contractions when she's speaking in the "common language." I wanted the Dalish to still speak the Elvhen language, so when she's with her clan, she's speaking the Elvhen language (and she'll use contractions), even though I'm writing her words in English...  
> This might change later as she speaks the common language more often, but for now her speech is much more precise-sounding.
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out[AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com)for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	3. Hard Lessons (9:26 Dragon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The seeds are sown for Renya's hatred of humans, and the plight of the Elvhen continues.

_9:26 Dragon_

“Tamlen!” Renya yelled, loosing an arrow. The armored shemlen with the long sword fell to the ground before he reached the other hunter. She fitted another arrow to her bow and took aim at another attacker, this one in full templar armor, pulling one of the elders from an aravel by her hair.

“Ar tu na’lin emma mi!” She prayed her aim stayed true as she let the arrow fly. It hit its mark, burrowing into the eyeholes of the shemlen’s helmet.

A yell from behind her grabbed her attention and she spun. Another hunter was being bludgeoned by a very large shemlen with a club. With horror, she recognized the elf as Ashalle’s son Nolith, and sprung to help him. Tamlen reached him first and stabbed his hunting knife into the attacking shemlen’s back, but Nolith had already fallen in a pool of dark red blood. Renya saw Tamlen shake his head grimly, lips in a thin line. Behind Tamlen, another elf ran out from behind a burning aravel. The armed shemlen behind him knocked him to the ground, pointing his sword at the elf’s throat with a horrible smile.

“Leave us -!” she heard the elf cry before the shemlen slit his throat. The human managed to bark a laugh before two of Renya’s arrows struck him in quick succession and he fell next to the slain elf, the ghost of his wretched smile still on his face.

“May the creators have mercy on you!” Merrill cried, shooting a deceptively powerful bolt of energy at a group of the shemlen. “I certainly won’t.”

Renya yelled and swiftly pulled out one of her dar’misu, hurling it at one of the flat-ear elves about to attack Merrill from behind. Merrill heard Renya’s call and ducked; the blade buried itself below the attacking elf’s eye. He went down as an arrow pierced him from behind.

The fight continued, and Renya soon found herself back to back with Merrill, fighting desperately against the large group of raiders.

“Where are they all coming from?” Renya demanded as she fought off a particularly large shemlen. Behind her, Merrill pressed her fingers to her forehead and the shemlen was thrown backwards a little.

“Lethallan!”

Tamlen charged over, baring a sword and shield grabbed from a dead shemlen. He barreled his way through the shemlen toward the two women. Other hunters were frantically shooting arrows at the humans as they razed the camp. One by one the humans began to fall.

Eventually the shemlen and their flat-ear companions either lay dead or had fled back into the forest in terror. Hahren Marathari walked through the camp, surveying the damage and shaking her head. So many dead…

Wailing came from the corner of the camp. Ashalle had found her son and clutched him to her chest, rocking him. Other cries joined hers as family members found their loved ones; occasionally the sound was happy as they discovered that the one missing was still alive. Most often, the discoveries were not so pleasant.

Renya walked over to Ashalle numbly and crouched down next to her. The woman continued to rock the young man, only a few years older than Renya.

“Mir da’len… Mir da’vhenan…” she cried into his wet hair. Renya put her hand on Ashalle’s back, tears running down her cheeks as well. If only she had been faster… if only she had been standing someplace closer… if only…

Ashalle gently laid the elf back down onto the ground and looked at Renya. She cupped her cheek and gave her a watery smile. “I’m glad you are okay, da’len. I couldn’t bear to lose both of you…” Renya pressed her face into the warm hand, sighing as Ashalle brushed the tears from her face. Renya wished there was something she could say to comfort her, but she could not find words that seemed sufficient.

That evening was a somber one. The deceased were buried, and trees were planted over them in the traditional Dalish fashion. The clan said the prayers and sung the Uthenera for the fallen elves, and then gathered around the fire back at the camp to continue to honor the dead. Renya sat next to Tamlen in silence. She watched at Hahren Marathari and Merrill tried to comfort the elves who had lost loved ones. She suppressed a smile. Soothing words came so naturally to Marathari, but Merrill… well, she cared deeply, but tact was never one of her strengths. Ashalle came over and sat down next heavily to Renya, holding something in her hand. She nudged Renya and handed her a beautifully carved hunting knife.

“He… I want you to have this, da’len,” Ashalle said sadly, staring at the knife. “It served him well for many years, and will do the same for you.”

Renya took the knife gently. “Ma serannas, Mamae,” she said, glancing at her mother’s face. She tucked it into her belt. “Ma serannas,” she said again softly. “I will prove myself worthy of this gift.” Ashalle patted her knee with a small smile and turned back to watching the fire.

Renya stared into the fire as well, anger boiling inside her. She would never forgive the shemlen for this.

Hahren Paivel had just finished speaking to a group of mourning elves. He stared into the fire for a few minutes, his hands folded in front of him. “We are the Dalish,” he said, finally looking up. “Keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last of the Elvhen…”

“And never again shall we submit,” Renya murmured along with him.

One day they would respect her and her kind, one day she would even command the shemlen. She would hold a sword to their throats and watch as they begged for mercy. And would she give it? Renya scoffed at the thought.

***

_9:27 Dragon_

“Those who oppose thee shall find the wrath of heaven,” the armored man intoned to himself, advancing.

“Please, no! Creators, deliver us!” cried the elf, throwing himself in front of his falon’saota – his bonded – and his son. The woman scooped the fledgling up and ran, looking back at her unarmed husband who was standing defiantly in front of the looming templar.

“The wind shall tear their nations from the face of the earth, lightning shall rain down from the sky,” the templar continued, unmoved.

“What have we ever done to you?”

“They shall cry out to their false gods, and find silence.”

Suddenly, the templar cried out in pain, crumpling. A sickening crunch silenced his shout and he fell to the ground, dead. A very disheveled elf jumped off him, looking at the clansman who had remained where he was. He looked at his savior, still terrified.

“Ma serannas,” he cried, before turning and running to catch up to his wife. New screams caught the warrior’s ears. Turning, the elf felt anger surge up again.

Another templar threw a burning torch into a nearby tent and watched as panicked elves fled out of it, only to be attacked by some of his comrades. He turned and saw a small elf girl standing a few feet away, crying.

“Mamae! Mamae!” she called, looking around and clutching a little toy.

“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter,” he intoned, drawing his sword. The fledgling finally noticed him and looked up at the advancing mailed mass, too terrified to run or scream. “Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.” He raised his sword above his head. “Die, heathen.”

“Nae!”

The templar stumbled. Something heavy had just struck his back. No, not struck. Something heavy was now attached to him, wrapping its fingers around his throat. He roared, trying to throw the creature off.

“Run, da’len! Run _now!_ ”

The little girl looked at the elf on the back of the templar for a minute, before turning. Merrill, Elgar’nan bless her, appeared and beckoned to the girl, who followed her. Casting a worried glance back at the elf hanging on top of the templar, she ushered the girl after the retreating elves.

The man backed up into a tree, and Renya felt the air get knocked out of her. She silently cursed herself. She hadn’t grabbed her bow, and her two dar’misu were currently lodged in that other templar. She had been a hunter for years now, but when she saw the little girl in trouble she had panicked and run toward the templar unarmed. It was a stupid move.

Renya lost her grip and she crashed to the ground, gasping. She glared at the templar advancing on her and tried to stand, but a gauntleted hand knocked her across the head and she toppled over. She blinked and tried to convince herself there was still only one advancing templar and not two or three, but she was having trouble concentrating through the throbbing in her head.

“Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow,” the templar was saying now, staring at the elf. She tried to sit up again but crumpled under his second blow. “In their blood the Maker’s will is written.” He smiled. “You are filth, knife-ear, and the Maker hates you. I will purify this world for Him, and in His name.”

Renya was having trouble focusing her eyes, and his words sounded as if they were echoing in a canyon. “Maker?” she managed. “I thought you shemlen had disgusted him so much he left you?”

She saw the blade come down and rolled out of the way. Her head throbbed harder and she groaned and she lay on her back again. Mixed in the echoes of her mind were the screams of her clan. She thought she heard someone calling her name. The templar advanced on her angrily.

“Do not mock the Maker. His chosen will be rewarded at His Throne!”

“And…and you are one of them, I suppose? His chosen?” Renya slurred out, glaring at him. Or at least, one of him. She was going to die, and painfully, but she would remain defiant against the shemlen until they took her breath from her.

The templar’s face turned ugly. “And down they fled into darkness and despair,” he intoned, raising his sword above her. Renya closed her eyes, not able to move out of the way again. Her eyes sprung open when the blade pierced her abdomen, almost pinning her to the ground.

“Maker, my enemies are abundant. Many are those who rise up against me!” he cried. He raised the sword and brought it down again. And again.

“But my faith sustains me. I shall not fear the legion, should they rise up against me!” He wrenched the sword out of her, his features twisted in hatred as he stared down at the elf dying at his feet. Renya could only gasp in agony. The world started to go dark, and she heard a whistle in the wind.

“It’s Falon’din’s breath. He’s coming for me,” she thought numbly. She heard a loud metallic crash next to her, but she barely noticed, listening for the wind again. It was calling to her.

“Renya! _Renya!_ ” Then, “Tamlen, help me!”

_Tamlen? No, don’t come for Tamlen. Let him go. He has his falon’saota, and a little daughter. Let him go._

“Andruil’s bow... We need to move, now. The last of them is dead; we should be able to get her through the camp.”

 _The last of them?_ That was alright then. Renya would join her clan soon. Her heart felt heavy with the thought of her whole clan being lost to the templar, but it was hard to feel anything for long anymore. Strong arms picked her up.

“Come on, lethallan. You’ll be alright.” Falon’din almost sounded like Tamlen.

_I know. I’m not in any pain anymore. It’s wonderful._

“Renya, don’t you dare leave me, you understand?”

_It’s okay, Merrill. Falon’din is just like Tamlen._

“Don’t worry, everything will…”

And with that, everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I don't own the Dragon Age world or the characters in it. I only hope this story brings joy to the folks who read it!
> 
> Translations:  
> Ar tu na'lin emma mi - I will see your blood on my blade  
> Mir - my  
> da'len - little child, a term of endearment  
> da'vhenan - little heart, another term of endearment  
> Mamae - mom  
> falon'saota - bonded, the Daish equivalent of marriage  
> ma serannas - thank you  
> Nae - no  
> Elgar'nan - literally 'great spirit,' he is the All-Father and leads the Dalish pantheon alongside Mythal  
> dar'misu - literally 'little blade' - a short sword, a bit longer than a dagger  
> Andruil - Dalish goddess of the hunt
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out[AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com)for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	4. Consequences (9:26 Dragon cont'd)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions, even ones made for noble purposes, have consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are hints of some pretty graphic violence against a character in this chapter. I put a warning for "Graphic Depictions of Violence" in the description, so I might not always warn about it in the notes, but just be aware that some pretty dark things are alluded to in the game (and DLCs) that are explored a bit throughout this fiction. If it gets really wild I'll change the warnings as needed. - A.T.

_At the estate of an arl:_

“These are Orlesian seals… These papers are from the Orlesian military…” The young bard stood up and stared at her bardmaster. “This is treason!”

“Not now,” the bardmaster clipped. She twisted her head toward a shout down the hall. “You need to move. _Now!_ I will distract as many as I can!”

***

_Somewhere in the Brecilian forest:_

“She’s waking up. Thank the creators, she’s waking up!”

“Hush, Merrill, don’t startle her.”

“Will she be alright, Hahren?”

Renya groaned, a chorus of voices pecking at her like birds. At her small sound, the voices stopped. She opened her eyes and saw the relieved faces of Ashalle and Merrill looking back at her.

“Da’len, you’re alright!” Ashalle cried, a few tears leaking out of her eyes.

Merrill was holding one of Renya’s hands in both of her own. “Mythal preserve us… I th-… we thought we would lose you…”

Blinking slowly, Renya took stock of her surroundings. She was inside an aravel lying on a raised bedroll. Ashalle and Merrill were looking at her anxiously. The hahren, too, was studying her critically.

“Am I…dead?” Renya croaked. She cleared her throat.

“No, da’len,” Ashalle said, rubbing Renya’s hair soothingly. “You’re alive and well. You’re home. The templar are gone. You’re safe. We are all safe.”

Renya looked at her, puzzled, the words coming slowly to her. “But how…?

“Rest, da’len,” the hahren said, patting her hand and rising. She indicated that the two other elves should follow her. “There will be time for questions later. For now, you need to sleep. I will be back soon to check on you.” Without another word she turned and left. Ashalle kissed Renya’s forehead before following the hahren, and Merrill lingered still longer, staring at Renya. She looked sad as her eyes traveled to the bandages on her friend’s lower abdomen.

She shook her head and looked back up at Renya’s face. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She kissed Renya on her cheek, lingering a moment. And then she was gone, too, before Renya could react.

A few silent minutes passed, and Renya began to drift off to sleep. A small cough announced Tamlen’s presence, and she opened her eyes. His face swam into focus/ He looked angry.

“What were you thinking?” he demanded.

“Tamlen?”

“A hunter, a _good_ hunter, attacks a templar without first grabbing her weapons? Where were your dar’misu? Where was your bow?” he ranted at her. Her eyebrows raised in indignation.

“That girl was about to be killed, what would you have -?”

He scoffed. “Dirthara’ma.”

Renya sat up quickly and immediately regretted it. She watched the color melt out of the world, but was too stubborn to lie down again. Tamlen was looking at her without pity.

“How dare you…” she growled. “One second more and that little girl would have died. Next time I should leave her, then? Maybe next time she will be _your_ daughter, seth’lin, and you’ll be glad for my actions.”

The angry words hung in the air as the two elves glared at each other. Tamlen shook his head and turned to leave. Renya felt her lip twitch as if to snarl. The other elf stopped in the doorway and turned around again, throwing something at her, which she only just caught. It was her bow, the one he had made for her.

“I’ll have you know that your bow killed that templar, Renya. No one can escape when the breath of Falon’din comes for them, not even when its owner forgets it at home,” he said flatly, not looking at her.

Renya stared at the bow in her hands, her mind clogged with too many thoughts to speak any one of them. She took a deep breath.

“Ma serannas, lethallin.”

Tamlen finally looked at her. “Sathem. Don’t mentioned it, Renya. I’m glad you’re okay.”

***

_In Denerim:_

“Pity, really,” the hooded man said conversationally, finally putting down the cat-o’-nine tails he was holding. He traced his finger down the woman’s heaving sides as she hung limply by her wrists. The man seemed to delight in smearing the dark red blood across her pale skin.

“A traitor to Orlais? When I am finished with having my fun with you I will sell you to the empress, and then she will decide what to do with you for your treason.” He looked at her fondly. “But I hate to give up my pet… _her_ pet. She was right. Her nightingale sings so sweetly.”

The young woman felt tears begin to trickle down her face, and there was nothing she could do to stop them. The guard laughed, and then slapped her, hard. “Let’s play a little more before I go to bed, shall we?” He picked up a small blade that looked like a scalpel and studied it. The prisoner studied it along with him.

“No…” she whispered, shaking her head. “Please, no…”

Nothing could be worse than this night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Hahren - respected elder of the Dalish, keeper  
> aravel - Dalish landship; the houses that Dalish live in and move with them when they travel to a new area  
> da'len - small child; term of endearment  
> dar'misu - literally "little blade"  
> dirthara'ma - literally "may you learn"; usually said as an insult  
> seth'lin - thin-blooded; an insult  
> ma serannas - thank you  
> lethallin - close friend, like a brother  
> sathem - you're welcome
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out[AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com)for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	5. Fair Trades (9:28 Dragon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the trading post invites some colorful interactions with the humans there.

_9:28 Dragon_

“And make sure that is tied tightly. We can’t afford to lose any of that ironbark,” Master Ilen said as his apprentice and another craftsman packed one of the aravels with goods to trade with the humans. He turned and saw Renya walking up to him.

“Ah, Renya. Yes, the hahren mentioned you and Tamlen would be coming with us when we went to the trading post today,” he said approvingly. “I told her we didn’t need our two best hunters coming with us, but she insisted, especially after the recent raids.”

Renya nodded, seeing Tamlen walk up, fastening his bow to his back. “Yes, Master Ilen. But I don’t understand why we trade with the shemlen at all…”

The older elf sighed. “It is unfortunate, but the humans have access to metals and materials that we simply don’t have here in the forest. And occasionally dwarves are trading, as well. They can help us with our armor and,” he added fondly, looking at the dual blades at Renya’s waist, “your swords.”

“Ma nuvenin, hahren,” Renya said with a grin.

“Merrill,” Master Ilen said with a polite nod as she walked up. “I wasn’t aware the clan’s first would be accompanying us as well.”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Merrill said awkwardly, setting her staff lightly on the ground and looking at Renya with meaning. “I… wanted to wish you well. May Mythal protect you and Sylaise guide you home safely.”

“Thank you, Merrill,” Master Ilen said gravely, turning his attention back to the aravel. Renya blinked at Merrill.

“You should also pray that Andruil will guide my bow should anything happen, otherwise we’ll all be coming back like pincushions,” she said with a little humor.

“I’d rather Mythal protect you,” Merrill replied softly, taking a little step forward and grabbing Renya’s hand with an anxious look over Renya’s shoulder at Ilen. “Come back safely.”

Renya smiled. Merrill’s hands were so warm, and smooth, and they tingled with power… Her heart fluttered a little. “I always do.”

Merrill raised her eyebrows. “No, you don’t.”

“It was one time…”

“A bear almost took your leg off!”

“It got better.”

“And the templar?” Merrill challenged.

“Well…” She pretended to look sheepish, but ruined it by winking at the first, who shook her head. “Again, it got better.”

Merrill glared back at the hunter. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ll be safe.”

Merrill grabbed Renya’s upper arms and pulled them close until their foreheads were touching. Renya smiled, looking into the olive eyes, and grabbed Merrill’s arms, too.

“Promise me, Renya.”

Renya nodded and stroked Merrill’s cheek gently. “I promise, Merrill. Tel’enfenim. You worry about me too much.”

The first nodded and then released her. “Of course I do,” she said stoutly. “Someone has to.” She gripped her staff tightly.

Another elf walked up then. Although he was around Renya’s age, his forehead was clear. “Are you Renya?” he asked with some excitement. Renya and Merrill shared a look. He was speaking in the common tongue.

“Yes?”

“Oh, wow! My name’s Pol, I just got here a few days ago. I was told to go find a hunter named Renya and accompany her on her trip with the traders.”

Renya blinked at the excited elf. “Oh? That is…” She shook her head, not understanding. With a glance up at his clear forehead, she added, “You are not Dalish, are you?”

The elf looked sheepish. “Oh, right. I guess it’s pretty obvious. I’m sorry. I’m new here. I ran away from the alienage in Denerim, and your clan was the first one I came to. Your… the hahren said I could stay.”

“Oh. Well, welcome, Pol,” Renya said politely. She tilted her head. “Alienage?”

Pol sighed. “Yes, it’s a… big, walled off area in a human city where elves live. They’re… terrible places, actually.” He looked sad for a moment. “If we’re caught trying to escape we’re usually imprisoned and executed. I was one of the lucky ones that managed to get away.”

“Oh.” So he was a city elf, a flat-ear. But he had returned to the Dalish; she would welcome him home. “Well, Pol, we are glad to have you back. Yes, we are on our way to the trading post, and-”

“So you actually go out and hunt?” Pol interrupted excitedly. Renya raised an eyebrow at him. She nodded to Merrill as the first squeezed her arm before striding back to the camp.

“Yes.”

“That’s… wow. I’ve never killed anything before. Everyone I talked to has said you are a very good hunter, one of the best…”

Renya smiled. “Ma serannas, Pol. Thank you.”

“Just do not let her show you her archery skills.” Tamlen appeared next to Renya with a grin. She tisked theatrically and knocked him with her shoulder. They both laughed at Pol’s confused look.

“We are ready to go,” Master Ilen said as he hooked up the aravel to the clan’s few horses. The elves began walking out of the camp.

“I have never been to a human city,” Renya commented. “What is it like?”

Pol’s eyes were wide. “Really? Well, I guess that makes sense. They’re big. Really big, and have these huge buildings all pressed together. It’s like you can’t breathe, everything is so close…”

“No trees?”

“In Denerim?” Pol shook his head. “No, very few. There’s the big one in the alienage but…” He looked around the forest and his face relaxed. “I like it here much better already.”

“I cannot image being anywhere else,” Tamlen said. Renya agreed.

***

_In Valence, Orlais:_

The Revered Mother sighed, watching the lay sisters pray to Andraste. She waited until the one with fiery red hair finished, and followed her into one of the side rooms.

“You are to go to Lothering and serve the Chantry there for a time, Sister,” she said. The lay sister looked up from the book she had just pulled off the bookshelf.

Of course, Mother. May I ask what has happened there?”

The Chantry mother sighed again. “I know you followed me here from Amaranthine, Sister Leliana, but… I think you will be better able to serve the Maker in Lothering,” she said with meaning, holding the lay sister’s gaze.

Sister Leliana nodded sadly. “I understand, Mother Dorothea. Of course I do not wish to leave you,” she added quietly. Mother Dorothea put her hands on Sister Leliana’s shoulders.

“None of us wish to leave home, Leliana. But we must all go where we are needed most. Home will always be there for you when you are ready to return,” the Revered Mother said kindly.

“Thank you, Mother. For everything…” Sister Leliana replied with meaning. Mother Dorothea patted her cheek. “I will leave at once.”

***

The Dalish landship reached the trading post a few days later.

"Uh oh,” Renya said darkly to Tamlen with a nod toward some of the other people resting at the post. Shemlen women in yellow and red robes were sitting on wooden benches, eating their lunch and chatting happily. A single armored man stood near them, surveying the world through the slit in his helmet.

“Templar,” Tamlen muttered.

“Should we go back?” Master Ilen had noticed the Chantry shemlen, too.

“No, I think if we leave the shemlen alone, they have no reason to attack us,” Renya said, not taking her eyes off the templar, who was now staring at her, as well. She forced herself to look away.

“He’s here guarding his elvyr’asha.” Tamlen pointed to all the women sitting at the templar’s feet and shot a sideways glance at Renya, who chuckled.

“Vin. But how can he keep so many?” Renya asked in a theatrical whisper. “Surely they won’t be impressed with his da’edhis…”

Tamlen snickered. “You’re terrible.”

“Let’s just get this over with as quickly as possible,” Master Ilen interrupted, grabbing his wares and indicating that his apprentice and Pol should copy him. Renya and Tamlen followed them and the little group approached a stand with two human men behind it.

“Ah, the Dalish,” one said with a small smile. “We were wondering when you’d come back.”

“Andaran atish’an,” Master Ilen said politely. “Do you have wool or cotton today?”

Renya watched with interest as the humans haggled with Master Ilen. She had never gone to the trading post before, and it was fascinating to see how important money was to the humans. They did not seem to care for the common good the way the Dalish did.

“These have been finely made,” Master Ilen was saying, shaking his head with annoyance. “There is no finer craftsmanship than Dalish craftsmanship, I assure you. Especially when it comes to bows.”

“We’re arming the shemlen?” Renya murmured to Tamlen. He shrugged as he watched the scene unfold with wonder.

“And these sheep have been rotton to take care of, Maker bless them,” the first man said hotly. “It’s getting to the end of our shearing, Master Elf. So, we’ll take the bows, for this amount here…” He pushed forward a pile of material. Master Ilen studied it carefully and the human watched him with folded arms.

“If you want more than that, we’ll have to start seeing some gold.”

“Elgar’nan, you cannot be serious…”

“Here,” said the other man, perking up a little. “Let that one show us how fine your wares indeed are.” He indicated Renya with a careless nod of his head. Master Ilen turned and saw matching doubt on both Renya and Tamlen’s faces.

“Make it a show and we’ll make it worth your while,” the man continued, plunking coin down on the counter. Master Ilen glanced around at the other stands… he doubted they all would accept Dalish goods as payment, and there were many aravels to rebuild…

“I will do this,” Renya said quietly. Without waiting for a reply, she stepped forward and held out her hand for the bow. Now faced with handing his new product over, the man hesitated. Renya smiled, although the expression didn’t reach her eyes.

“I have a bow of my own, sh- human. I have no need to steal this one from you.”

The man slowly handed over the bow and Renya cocked an arrow on it.

“What’s the target?”

“…whatever you want it to be, Dalish.”

Deciding that the templar was off-limits, she cast around for something else at which to shoot.

“The apple. Up there,” she said, taking aim.

“What? I don’t see an apple up…”

Renya fired, hitting a small green apple high in the tree’s boughs. She silently thanked Andruil as the apple fell to the ground before turning to the two humans and smiling sweetly at them.

The two men were watching her with their mouths open. With interest, she also noticed that the other tradesmen and the shemlen from the Chantry were staring at her, too, although most of them seemed to be afraid.

“Right, well… Another target, then.”  
Renya glanced at Tamlen and a ghost of a grin passed over her face. “Put the apple on your head,” she suggested, “and I will shoot it off.”

“Maker, are you insane?”

“No, just a very good shot.” She ignored Tamlen, who was looking at her incredulously. Master Ilen, too, was watching her with wide eyes. Remembering Master Ilen’s furtive glance around at the other traders, she decided to have a little more fun with the humans.

“You wanted a show, did you not? I will shoot an apple off your head, and then you pay us double what you promised.”

“And what if you miss?” the man asked with a gulp.

Renya forced herself to laugh. “I am sure the templar will take care of that.”

“Comforting,” the man groaned. His business partner nudged him.

“Go on. You’re the one who wanted her to pick the targets.”

“I’ll do it,” said a light voice behind them. Renya turned in time to see the templar stepping in front of one of the Chantry women.

“No, Sister. This is too dangerous. And foolish,” he grumbled. He resumed watching the elves with his hand on his sword.

Renya grunted and took careful aim at the green apple now resting carefully on the tall trader’s head. She silently prayed to Andruil to guide her arrow; she really didn’t want to provoke the templar. The air around them went still, and she became very aware of everyone watching her. She let the arrow fly.

With a crisp _thud_ the apple was pinned to a tree behind the man. A collective sigh went up, including Renya’s.

“Satisfied?” she asked curtly.

The trader, who was very pale, nodded and handed over the promised coin and wool. Renya tossed the bow back onto his table and walked away without another glance behind her.

After trading and purchasing goods from a few more merchants – all quite happy to give the Dalish very nice discounts – Master Ilen and his company began to leave the trading post for their camp. They had barely gone a few feet when they found their path blocked by the templar.

“Excuse us,” Master Ilen said with forced politeness. “We are trying to return peacefully to our homes.”

“You knife-ears have no right taking human goods,” he said through his helmet.

“We traded for them,” Master Ilen said patiently. “Or purchased them with honestly-earned coin.”

“Let them pass, Ser Knight,” said the same quiet voice from before. Renya was staring too hard at the templar to pay it any mind.

“No, Sister. I think these knife-ears need to know who their betters are. You take from the humans, you must pay them as well.”

Master Ilen took a deep breath. “We did pay.”

But the templar ignored them. “I think a nice donation to the Chantry is in order, here, don’t you think?”

“No, I do not think that at all,” Master Ilen’s apprentice cut in sharply before anyone could stop him. Tamlen pulled the young elf behind him with annoyance.

“Yes, I think it is. You have some silver left, don’t you? I think twenty-six pieces will do nicely,” the templar said, holding out his hand.

“Then we will have nothing left,” Master Ilen replied, pointedly not reaching for his coin-purse.

“I’m waiting, knife-ear.”

“Ser Knight, let them-”

“Enough, Sister. I offered to travel with you and protect you. That is what I am doing. Another word from you and I will ensure your permanent safety from these elves!” the man threatened. The woman he called “sister” fell silent.

Master Ilen sighed. Renya pulsed her jaw as he slowly handed over the money-pouch. The templar snatched it away, and Tamlen made an indignant noise beside her. But, short of murdering the templar, there was nothing they could do. The templar huffed and walked away, counting the coins.

“Let us leave. Quickly,” Master Ilen said, urging the horses forward. “It’s only shemlen coin…”

Tamlen stayed in front with Ilen, and Renya held back, guarding the rear of the procession. They had walked only a few minutes when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned and saw a figure hurrying toward them. The figured had a plain brown traveling cloak wrapped around her and its hood was obscuring her face in the dimming light, but Renya could still make out the bright colors of the Chantry robes underneath. She drew her bow warily, but the woman raised her empty hands.

“I don’t have much,” the woman whispered. She sounded different than the woman who had offered to be Renya's "target." She took a ring off her finger and offered it to Renya. “But please take this. It is emblazoned with the symbol of the Maker’s Bride Andraste and it will protect you.”

Renya merely stared at her, aware of the aravel continuing on its path. She lowered her bow.

“Please, I don’t have much time,” the woman urged. “I was only just able to sneak away and will soon be missed.” She thrust the ring toward Renya, who stepped away. “You have certainly earned this with your coin and patience. I don’t know why he was acting like that. He’s usually very nice…”

Renya shook her head, not listening. She looked at the ring offered to her in the woman’s outstretched palm. With a sigh, she reached forward and closed the woman’s hand around the ring again.

“I do not believe in your...Andrista,” she said, not recognizing the name the woman had said. “And do not desire anything having to do with your Shantri.”

“Renya?” Tamlen’s voice floated back to her. Renya tilted her head, considering the woman in front of her.

“Sister?” called a voice from the other direction.

The templar was coming. Renya clenched her jaw, staring over the woman’s shoulders. She leveled her gaze back onto the woman in front of her and the woman startled at its sudden severity. The elf looked like she was struggling to say something.

“Your… kindness… is appreciated, however.”

Before the woman could reply, the elf disappeared after the rest of her companions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we'll start the game! I promise :) Comments and suggestions are always appreciated!
> 
> I also tried to rectify a slight inconsistency from the game, since Leliana's report of her past and the locations shown in her DLC don't exactly match up. Avoiding spoilers for folks who haven't played the game and are reading this anyway :) but if you're confused as to what I'm talking about, send a comment (or PM me on Twitter) and I'll spill all the beans (haha)
> 
> Translations:  
> ma nuvenin - it will be as you say/as you wish  
> hahren - respected Elvhen elder/leader  
> aravel - Dalish landships  
> Tel'enfanim - don't worry  
> elvyr'asha - basically means "harem" or a group of, shall we say, loose women  
> da'edhis - a negative comment about the size of part of a man's anatomy  
> andaran atish'an - a formal greeting; "I welcome you to this/my place of peace"  
> shemlen - literally "quick children"; now used as an insulting term for humans
> 
> Elvhen gods:  
> Elgar'nan - the All-Father; he leads the pantheon  
> Andruil - goddess of the hunt
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	6. What Lies on the Horizon (9:29-30 Dragon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omens of shadows begin to appear, and a few lost humans set events into motion that they never could have imagined.

_9:29 Dragon_

A Chantry sister knelt in front of the great statue of Andraste at the Chantry in Lothering. “The one who repents, who has faith, unshaken by the darkness of the world, she shall know true peace,” she chanted. She looked up at the beautiful woman immortalized in marble before her and placed a hand over where the deep knife-scar still lingered. “I seek peace, my Lady,” she whispered. “Yet You torment me with such visions?” She lowered her head again.

“O Creator, see me kneel: For I walk only where You would bid me, stand only in places You have blessed, sing only the words You place in my throat.” Her voice caught, but she continued. “My Maker, know my heart. Take from me a life of sorrow. Lift me from a world of pain. Judge me worthy of Your endless pride…”

“Sister Leliana?”

The lay sister paused in her chanting, the voice of the Revered Mother drifting through the dimly lit tabernacle. She rose.

“Mother, I’m sorry if I have disturbed you.”

“No, not at all,” the Revered Mother said kindly, smiling and laying a hand on Sister Leliana’s shoulder. “Tell me what troubles you, my child.”

The redhead sighed. She looked up in to her superior’s eyes, hoping for the best. “My dreams, Mother… There is a great darkness that swallows the land. I am on a cliff, watching the light as it is consumed, and then… I fall into the darkness.” The lay sister paused, thinking. She remembered feeling like someone was supposed to be there to catch her.

“What do you think it means?”

“I think… it is a vision, from the Maker,” Sister Leliana said. She saw the incredulous look on the Revered Mother’s face. “I…”

“Do you think that in your heart, my child?”

“I do, Mother,” Sister Leliana said, looking down. She wished she was back with Mother Dorothea; she would have understood.

“The Maker has left us, Sister,” the Mother said kindly. “And does not speak to us in our dreams.”

“I… I know what I saw,” Sister Leliana replied quietly. But the Revered Mother shook her head again.

“It was a dream, and nothing more,” the older woman replied firmly. “The Maker does not speak to you, nor to anyone else of this age. He only ever spoke to Andraste. I’m sorry your dreams have been troubling you.” She spoke in a tone that ended the conversation.

The sister sighed. “Thank you for indulging me, Mother,” she said softly. “I think I may go contemplate the Chant in the garden. The sun is coming up, and a little fresh air may help clear my thoughts.”

“As you wish,” the Revered Mother said gently, withdrawing back to her chambers.

On her way out, Sister Ulivia and Sister Helene, both a few years old than she, stopped her.

“Sister, you’ve been here for only a little over a year. I would suggest not beginning to spread lies about yourself,” Sister Ulivia commented. “We are all equals here, and exist to serve the Maker and His Bride, Andraste, not our own idle fancies.

“I know what I saw, and I know what I believe,” Sister Leliana replied sternly.

“A bad dream, nothing more,” Sister Helene added.

Sister Leliana shook her head at the two women who were wearing matching skepticism and annoyance on their faces, and then left the building to enter the small garden off the side of the sanctuary.

Taking a deep breath of the cool morning air, Leliana began to feel better. She raised her head to look at the sky, and managed a smile. The Maker was good; surely there was a reason for this dream to keep haunting her. As she made her way to a bench on the other side of the garden, a splash of color caught her eye. Leliana gasped. The old, dead rosebush, the one scheduled to be dug up in the coming weeks, had bloomed. A single, beautiful red rose opened up its petals to the world, its beauty shining in defiance of the death around it.

Leliana raised her eyebrows. This was it. This was what the Maker meant. Some of the Grey Wardens who had passed through the town had whispered rumors of darkspawn. All dismissed them as a dying order attempting to regain their honor. Leliana reached out and delicately touched the fragile flower, thinking. The Maker hadn’t abandoned them. There was still goodness to be found in the coming darkness, and Leliana swore that she would assist it in any way possible.

***

_Present – 9:30 Dragon_

“It’s a Dalish!” The shemlen and his two companions skidded to a stop, one of them falling down in the process.

Tamlen stood, bow taught with an arrow aimed at the human in the middle. Renya stepped out of the shadows, ready to loose an arrow of her own, and stood next to her friend, sneering as the wretched shemlen gasped and backed away.

“And you three are somewhere you should not be,” Tamlen said threateningly.

“Let us pass, elf. You have no right to stop us,” said one of the shemlen, balling his hands into fists. Renya raised an eyebrow.

“No?” Tamlen countered. “We will just see about that.” He glanced at Renya. “You are just in time. I found these…humans lurking about. Bandits, no doubt.”

“We’re… we’re not bandits, I swear!” the tallest shemlen cried. “Please don’t hurt us.”

“You shemlen are pathetic,” Tamlen growled, advancing. Renya followed his lead. “It is hard to believe you drove us from our homeland.”

“We-we-we’ve never done nothing to you, Dalish!” stammered another. “We didn’t even know this forest was yours!”

Tamlen tutted. “This forest is not ours, fool. You have stumbled too close to our camp. You shems are like vermin. We cannot trust you to not make trouble.” Renya was about to agree when one of the shemlen interrupted.

“We’re not here to make trouble! Honest! We found a cave, and were hoping to find…”

“Treasure?” Tamlen supplied.

“So you are more like thieves than actual bandits,” Renya added with mock understanding.

“No! I mean, yes. I mean, here, we found this right inside some old ruins. I’m sure there’s more, but we didn’t dare go in any further.”

“Why not?” Renya asked as Tamlen took the little token the shemlen offered him.

“There were… there were demons!” said the tall shemlen with a shudder. “We ran like mad away from there.”

“Is this… is this written Elvish?” Tamlen asked, staring at the token.

“I think I would like to see these ruins,” Renya said conversationally, her bow still trained at the tallest of the three men in front of her.

“Me, too,” Tamlen agreed, leveling a severe gaze on the shemlen.

“Please… ser… we… we just want to go home.” It was the short one who spoke now.

But Tamlen ignored him. “Where is this cave, humans?”

The tall one spoke again. “To the west. It’s… big, and… dark. Lots of stones around it. Please!” he cried, seeing the elves pull back on their arrows slightly.

“What do you say, lethallan? Do you trust them? Should we let them go?”

Renya twisted her face into a snarl and let her arrow fly. It flew past the tall shemlen’s ear and buried itself in a tree behind him. The man yelped and raised a hand to his ear. It was bleeding where she had clipped him.

“Yes, they will not cause us any more trouble.”

Tamlen laughed. “Run along, then, little shemlen. And do not come back until we Dalish have had a chance to move on!”

The men tripped over themselves to leave. “Yes, yes. Of course. Thank you. Thank you!” the babbled as they ran away. As one, the elves lowered their weapons.

“Nice shot, lethallan,” Tamlen said, impressed. Renya looked at him.

“What are you talking about? I missed.”

Tamlen laughed, louder this time. “So, shall we go see if there is any truth to this cave?”

Renya hesitated. There were no caves in the area, and she knew every inch of this part of the forest. Something was wrong. “Shouldn’t we tell the hahren? She might be interested in these carvings…”

“She might be,” Tamlen replied, looking in the direction of the camp. “But maybe we should check it out to make sure there is nothing else there first. Let’s go. They said it’s to the west, right?” And with that, he was off. Renya shook her head, feeling uneasy, and followed him.

They reached the cave a quarter of an hour later.

“Interesting,” Tamlen muttered. “I don’t remember a cave being here, do you?”

“No.” Something about the area was making her jumpy.

“Come on, let’s go explore it.”

“Tamlen, this is a really bad idea.”

“What? The fearless Renya afraid of a little cave?” Tamlen teased her.

“The shemlen said there were monsters,” Renya said, somewhat lamely.

Shaking his head, Tamlen pulled his bow off his back. “Probably just a bear. Nothing we can’t handle. Come on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out[AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com)for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	7. A Mistake Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renya and Tamlen find more than they bargained for...

“This is a _terrible_ idea, Tamlen,” Renya panted sometime later. They had found the cave and fought their way through the ruins within it. The shemlen had been right. There were monsters and _giant spiders_ – Renya shuddered – and creatures neither of the elves had seen before. Now they were standing before a great statue of Andruil, the Dalish goddess of hunters, marveling that it would exist in a place that had so obviously been crafted by shemlen.

“We’re fine, Renya. You worry too much.” But even Tamlen now had a waver in his voice. They both sighed. “I don’t like this either. Something here feels… wrong. Wait, what’s that?”

Something was glinting at them through the darkness. The two elves drew closer, Renya with her hand on one of her blades. It was a mirror, supported by two stone statues of shemlen, conspicuously intact in defiance of the wreckage around it. Carvings of strange symbols decorated the frame of the mirror itself.

“It’s so beautiful, look, lethallan,” Tamlen murmured. “I wonder what it says…”

“I don’t know. We should go, lethallin, my blood is suddenly cold. Nothing good can come of this place, I’m sure of it,” Renya said.

“I just want to take a look at it, come on,” Tamlen said stubbornly. “Can’t you – wait, did you see that? Something just moved inside the mirror.” He walked closer, and Renya followed him, on edge. “I think it knows we’re here. Can you feel that? I just want to take a closer look.” He walked up the steps toward the mirror, and again Renya followed, a little slower this time.

“Did you see that? There it is again!” Tamlen exclaimed. “It’s… showing me places…” He looked at Renya, who shrugged, then back at the mirror. “I can see… some kind of city. Underground. And… there is a great darkness, and… uh oh. I think it saw me…Help… Help! I can’t look away!”

“Tamlen!” Renya cried, springing forward to push him away from the mirror as a flash of white light began to flood from it. She briefly felt her arms around him, felt him grip at her shoulder, before she was thrown backward and knew no more.

***

“Can you hear me?” a deep voice asked.

Renya opened one bleary eye. The world was spinning, but she just managed to make out a human with black hair standing over her.

“I am… very sorry,” he said, before she passed out again.

***

Renya awoke with a yell, springing up from the bedroll she had been laid on. She stared around wildly, until a familiar voice next to her cut through her panic.

“Renya… Hush…”

“Merrill?”

“Yes, da’vhenan. It’s alright. You’re safe now.” The first was holding her hand, and reached over to stroke Renya’s cheek.

Renya relaxed. “Of course I am. You’re here,” she replied, making Merrill smile.

“Ah, da’len. I see you’re awake,” the hahren said, coming over and kneeling next to her. “It is fortunate Duncan found you when you did. I know not what dark power held you, but it nearly bled the life from you. It was difficult for even my magic to keep you alive.” Merrill continued to kneel next to Renya, holding her hand protectively and looking grim.

Renya blinked and shook her head experimentally. “Duncan?”

“A Grey Warden, and an old friend. It was luck that he found you, and I cannot thank him enough. If you –”

“And Tamlen?” the younger elf interjected, her voice rising horribly. “Is… is he sick, too?”

The hahren sighed, and Merrill gave a little shake of her head. “If he met with the same fate as you, then yes, he must be. But Duncan said he found you alone at the mouth of the cave…”

The hahren continued, talking about darkspawn and a taint and a curse, but Renya had stopped paying attention. She was staring into Merrill’s eyes, as if to read the answers, or perhaps glean comfort, in them. Tamlen hadn’t come back; the Grey Warden hadn’t found him. And how had she wound up at the entrance to the cave? The last thing she remembered was trying to push Tamlen away from the mirror. The hahren’s voice floated back to her.

“Did you find anything else in the cave?”

Renya searched her memory. “Walking corpses, and… a mirror…” she whispered the last two words.

“Walking corpses?” the hahren asked. She sighed. “Dark magic, but not darkspawn. And a mirror? A mirror caused all this? I have never heard of this in all the lore we have collected. But Tamlen is still missing, and he is more valuable than all the lore and ruins in that cave.”

Renya silently agreed. She could see his daughter playing with the other fledglings from here.

The hahren continued. “If he is as sick as you were, his condition is grave. Duncan returned to the cave to look for darkspawn, but we cannot expect him to look for Tamlen as well. We must return to the cave. Could you lead us, da’len?”

“Of course, Hahren. I feel fine,” Renya lied. Her head was throbbing. But the hahren smiled.

“I’m glad to hear it. Take Merrill. She knows some of my magic, and Tamlen’s return journey will be safer if she is present. Remember, if you come across this mirror again, do not touch it.”

“Aren’t you interested in the ruins?”

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t, but there are more important things in this world than ruins and lore. I am sending you to retrieve Tamlen and only Tamlen. Do you understand?” The hahren fixed Renya with a pointed look.

“Yes, Hahren. I’ll leave right away.”

***

“Are you sure this is the way, Renya?” Merrill asked as they made their way through the forest.

“Of course, Merrill. It was just down this hill…”

“Look, there’s a campsite. The fire has not been extinguished long,” said Fenarel. Renya nodded. She was glad the hahren had allowed Fenarel to come with them. He was an able warrior, and Renya was glad for more company as they trekked back to the cave.

“Maybe that Grey Warden’s campsite?” Renya offered.

“Possibly. Let’s move on,” said Merrill, looking around uneasily. “Wait, do you hear that?”

They all listened intently.

“I hear… nothing. No forest sounds,” Renya said, puzzled.

“Exactly,” Merrill replied, looking at her meaningfully. “The forest is too quiet. There is something unnatural in the air.” She shuddered. “The sooner we find Tamlen, the sooner we can leave. Which way is the cave from here?” Renya and Fenarel looked around for any signs of a cave.

“There, I see it,” Fenarel said suddenly, pointing ahead.

“That’s it,” Renya affirmed. She set her features and looked at Merrill, feeling like she was going to be sick. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> lethallan/lethallin - close friend: -an is female, -in is male  
> hahren - respected Elvhen elder or "keeper"  
> da'len - child  
> da'vhenan - "little heart"; a term of endearment
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out[AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com)for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	8. Some Things Lost Can Never Be Regained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renya faces the consequences of her foray to the cave with Tamlen, and it's not what she expects.

Thankfully, she and Tamlen had eradicated all the monsters that lived in the cave. But that didn’t dispel the uneasy feeling that hung about the place. Renya couldn’t help but smile when she saw Merrill looking around the ruins with interest, obviously torn between wanting to study the place and to continue looking for their friend. Fenarel shook his head.

“Again?” he grumbled when Merrill paused to look at some carvings on one of the walls. He looked at Renya. “Can’t you do something? You know how she can get.”

Renya arched an eyebrow at him. She walked over to where Merrill was slowly walking down the corridor, staring at the stones.

“Once we have found Tamlen, we’ll make another trip back and you can bring some vellum to take notes,” Renya whispered so only Merrill could hear. Merrill looked at her, eyes wide.

“How can you joke right now?” she asked incredulously, but Renya saw she was relieved for the break in tension.

“Because if I don’t, I might add another mess to the one already here.”

“We have been exploring every room in this cave and there is no sign of Tamlen,” Fenarel muttered. “We should press on. We need to find him… or at least his body. We must bring something back…”

Renya swallowed hard, and noticed Merrill chewing on the inside of her lip. She sighed, and Merrill glanced at her.

“Renya, are you… feeling okay?” Merrill asked with a slight frown. Renya shrugged.

“Yes, I feel fine. Why?”

“You look very pale.” Merrill sounded concerned. “If you want, Fenarel and I can continue on, and…”

“No,” Renya said stubbornly. “I want to find Tamlen.”

They continued deeper into the cave in silence, and they soon found the mirror. The human with the black hair stood before it, stroking his chin, which was covered in something black and fuzzy-looking.

“So… Is that a squirrel attached to his face?” Merrill hissed at Renya. Renya shrugged, staring at the strange shemlen.

The man turned at their approach and his gaze fell onto Renya. He looked at her with surprise.

“You are the elf I found at the entrance of this cave. I’m surprised you have recovered,” the man said with some shock. Renya looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“Vin. Yes,” she said, switching to the common tongue. “You are the Grey Warden Hahren Marathari mentioned?”

The man smiled. “Yes, I am Duncan.”

Renya nodded to him curtly. “I am Renya. I thank you for my rescue.”

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you. The last time I saw you, you were barely conscious.”

Merrill cut in. “Andaran atish’an, Duncan of the Grey Wardens. I am Merrill, Hahren Marathari’s first… her apprentice.”

“And I am Fenarel,” said the other elf. “Did you…come here alone, human? Battling all those creatures?”

“I did,” Duncan answered gravely. “But I admit you did me a great favor with your own skills. I hope your keeper did not send you after me. I told her I would be alright.”

Merrill shook her head. “We are here looking for our clansman, Tamlen.”

“I see.” Duncan stroked his beard again. He turned back to the mirror. “This mirror is of Tevinter origin, and at one time contained powerful magic, but over time, these things sometimes… break. You and your clansman Tamlen entered the cave and discovered the mirror, yes?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Renya.

“We did. He said it began talking to him, and it showed him an underground city, and then… I suppose you found me,” Renya said. She was feeling wrong-footed by this shemlen. Most of them were cruel to her and her people, but this one… this one was treating her with respect. She didn’t understand.

Duncan turned to face them again. “This mirror has become filled with the taint of the darkspawn. Tamlen’s touch must have released it. That is what made you sick… and Tamlen, too, I presume.”

Renya looked at the man with growing confusion. The shemlen almost seemed sorry to hear that elves had been hurt.

“Perhaps we could bring this mirror back to our camp, let the hahren look at it?” suggested Fenarel. But Duncan shook his head.

“No, this mirror will possess any who come too close to it. It must be destroyed.”

“But I do not fear this sickness,” Merrill interjected, arching an eyebrow at the human. “The hahren knows the cure.”

Duncan looked at Renya. “Your keeper may know how to slow the curse, but even she cannot remove it. I can sense the sickness in you. Look inside yourself and tell me what you see.”

Renya raised her eyebrows at him for a moment, then closed her eyes. Odd… it was like someone was singing, far off in the distance, but Renya was terrified to know more of the song. It was calling to her, and knowing more of the song would make it worse. She opened her eyes, frowning. Duncan was looking at her knowingly.

“What am I to do?” she asked.

“First, we deal with the mirror. It is a pestilence and a threat and must be destroyed.” Without another word, he turned and drove his sword into the mirror. A blinding light filled the room, accompanied by the high-pitched screaming of a creature tortured, before the cavern was once again silent and dark. The three elves looked at each other, each wearing the same shaken look.

“It is done,” Duncan said solemnly. “Now let us leave here. I must speak with your keeper regarding your cure.”

“But what of Tamlen?” Renya whispered.

“He is gone,” the Grey Warden replied. “There is nothing you can do for him. It was by the magic of your keeper and your own willpower that you managed to survive. Tamlen has been sick for three days. Believe me when I tell you that he is gone,” he finished forcefully when Renya began to interrupt.

Renya folded her arms defiantly. No, Tamlen was not one to just be gone. She had to find him. She had to bring him back, and apologize for not doing more to save him. This was all her fault, and she would never be able to tell him. She suddenly became aware of the bow slung on her back.

The Warden looked at her, then lowered his gaze. “I am… very sorry,” he said with his deep voice. He walked past the elves, who remained where they were.

Merrill grabbed Renya’s arm. “Come on, lethallan. Let’s go home.” She looked more closely at her friend’s face. “Fenarel,” she said sharply, not taking her eyes off Renya. “Follow the human. We will be right behind.”

Obediently Fenarel turned and practically ran out of the mirror cavern.

“Come on, vhenan,” Merrill said again, more gently. She tightened her grip on Renya’s arm. Renya shook her head, tears beginning to fall. Merrill pulled her into a hug and Renya leaned into her, letting herself be soothed by Merrill’s hand gently rubbing her back. Her sobs echoed around the empty chamber, making the room sound as if the very rocks mourned the loss of one of the People. Renya pulled away, wiping her eyes. The two elves looked at each other. Merrill reached out and stroked Renya’s cheek gently.

“Ir abelas, ma vhenan.”

“Ma serannas,” Renya said, glancing at the broken mirror beside them. “Me too.”

***

She had been sent away by the hahren and the Grey Warden and told to come back later, so Renya was wandering the camp, trying to ease her mind. She had been reprimanded by Hahren Paivel, but luckily had made it up to him by helping him tell the story of the fall of the Dales to the fledgelings. In the end, he hadn’t blamed her, and promised to arrange for a funeral for Tamlen. Renya had barely kept from crying as he said the prayer for fallen warriors over the campfire.

“Creators guide your path, da’len,” he said when he had finished, gripping her shoulder tightly.

Her least enjoyable conversation had been with Ashalle. She had always wondered what happened to her parents, what had _really_ happened. Had they, too, been cursed by something in the forrest? Now she wished she had never asked.

Somewhere in the numbness at Tamlen’s death was a new anger at the shemlen in the world. They had killed her father and caused her mother to abandon her. Her hands found the scars on her abdomen, hidden by her green hunting armor. And they had brutalized her and her clan… more than once. Renya sighed, not paying attention to where she was walking.

“Ah, da’len. I’m glad you have come this way,” the hahren called out to her, beckoning her over. Renya walked over, looking carefully at the Grey Warden next to her.

The Grey Warden spoke. “We have reached an arrangement that concerns you. My order is in need of help. You are in need of a cure. When I leave, I hope you will join me. You would make an excellent Grey Warden,” he began.

“Am I being banished, Hahren?” Renya asked in alarm. Banishment meant a Dalish was no longer welcome in her clan and must live alone in the forest. It meant you would be treated as an enemy if you tried to return. Banishment meant almost certain death to a Dalish.

“We would not send you away. But there is more at stake,” the hahren replied. Renya’s heart beat faster at the sorrow in her voice. Duncan continued.

“The darkspawn taint courses through you. That you survived at all is remarkable, but it will slowly eat away at you until you have become one of them. The Grey Wardens offer a cure, but it involves becoming one of us.”

Renya was still looking at the hahren desperately. “Will I ever be able to return, Hahren?”

“We do not know, da’len.” The shadow she had held in her heart since Renya’s vallaslin ceremony rose to the surface. She shook her head subconsciously. “But we could not sit by and watch you suffer. The Grey Warden offers you a way to survive.”

“This is not simply charity on my part. I would not ask if I did not think you had the makings of a Grey Warden.” Duncan sighed. “Let me be clear. It is unlikely you will ever return here. We go to fight the darkspawn, a battle that will take you far from your clan. But we need you, and others like you.”

So she would not be banished. She would be taken by shemlen, instead. Renya’s mouth worked furiously as she chewed on all the things she wanted to say.

“An invasion of darkspawn, what the humans call a Blight, is coming, da’len,” the hahren said now. “Long ago, the Dalish signed an agreement to aid the Grey Wardens should that time arise. It breaks my heart to send you away, just as it would break my heart to watch you die slowly of this sickness. This is your duty, and your salvation.”

“So I am to leave my home with a shemlen, never to return?” Renya questioned angrily.

“A home that could be lost to the darkspawn…” Duncan began, but the hahren cut him off.

“I cannot express my sorrow at sending one of our daughters away into such danger,” the hahren said sadly. “Away from a clan that loves her. But this is what the creators have in store for you, da’len. This is your destiny, and you must meet your destiny with your head held high. You are Dalish, and must never forget that,” she ended solemnly. Renya swallowed and bowed her head.

“If it is the will of the clan,” she said slowly and sadly. “I will join your cause, Duncan of the Grey Wardens.”

“I am proud of you, da’len,” the hahren said softly.

“And I am glad you have made this decision. The darkspawn are an ever-increasing threat, and we must stand united,” Duncan said, meeting Renya’s glare calmly.

“I know you will do your clan proud, da’len. Here,” the hahren added, slipping a ring off her finger. “Take this. It is your heritage, and will protect you against the darkness to come.”

“A valuable gift,” Duncan commented as Renya thanked the keeper and slipped the ring onto the middle finger of her left hand. “Now, we have much ground to cover. Unless there is anything else you must do, we should be off.” Renya’s eyes widened.

“Please, Duncan of the Grey Wardens. Please, Hahren,” she said desperately. “Allow me to stay for Tamlen’s funeral.”

Duncan sighed. “We have much ground to cover, but I can hardly deny such a request. Say your farewells, and then we will be off.”

“Come da’len,” the hahren said, taking her by the hand. “Before the creators guide you from us, let your clan embrace you one last time.”

***

The funeral was somber, not clan only mourning the loss of Tamlen, but news had spread that Renya would be leaving them too. Finally the moment arrived, and Renya made her way through her people, each offering her words of encouragement and pats on the shoulder, although she noticed that their optimistic voices did not match the looks in their eyes.

Her farewell to Ashalle was painful, but Ashalle, ever her mother, tried to maintain a strong face for her. After they had embraced, Ashalle kissed her forehead one last time before sending her on her way. Merrill had been oddly not present, but as Duncan nodded to Renya and began to leave the camp, a strangled cry caught both of their attention.

Merrill appeared seemingly out of nowhere and threw herself at Renya, hugging her. They murmured to each other in Dalish so the Grey Warden wouldn’t understand. A soft cough from the human caught both their attention.

“We will see each other again, I promise you, Merrill,” Renya said softly. Merrill pulled away slightly and looked at her seriously.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, ma vhenan,” she replied. Renya nodded.

“This can’t be goodbye. I will end this Blight and return,” Renya said with determination, hardly thinking about what she had just said. But Merrill chuckled and pulled her close again.

“If anyone can end a Blight single-handedly, it would be you, Renya,” Merrill said, a hint of a smile on her face. “Dareth shiral, Renya.”

“Dareth shiral, Merrill. Safe travels,” Renya replied. “Ma melava halani. Ma suledin nadas, ma vhenan. You were my safety, and now you must endure…” she murmured sadly.

With that, Renya pulled away from her friend and followed Duncan up the hill that led away from her clan. She looked back and saw her clan, her family, watching her go. Her eyes lingered on Merrill’s; it broke her heart to see tears shimmering in them. Wavering for only a moment more, Renya forced herself to turn and march away from the only home she had ever known. Somewhere behind her, she heard a soft thump followed by muffled sobs. A warm hand was placed between her shoulderblades, guiding her forward.

“Come, Renya,” Duncan said gravely. She followed his lead numbly, wondering how she would ever have the strength to continue on alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Ir abelas - I'm sorry  
> ma'vhenan - my heart, term of endearment  
> abelas, ma'vhenan - I'm sorry for your loss  
> ma serannas - thank you  
> dareth shiral - save travels/journey  
> ma melava halani - you were my help/my safety  
> ma suledin nadas - now you must endure
> 
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	9. Journey to Ostegar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renya's relationship with Duncan is initially rocky, and what will happen when she learns she will have to fight alongside a templar?

They walked in silence, with Renya staring straight ahead and refusing to look at the Grey Warden next to her. The Grey Warden, for his part, appeared content to leave her to her thoughts, although he occasionally glanced at her with some concern. After all, it wasn’t natural to not utter a word to your traveling companion for days on end. When she had been forced to communicate with him, it had been with shrugs and noncommittal grunts. It was now their fourth sunset together. Duncan mentioned they should set up camp.

“You know, I can understand why you might be angry with me,” he began once a fire was burning between them.

“No, you really don’t,” Renya replied flatly. She looked at Duncan angrily.

Duncan, however, looked surprised and thoughtful. “You lost your friend and your clan all in a span of a few days. Do not think that I have never lost anything, my friend.”

Renya’s hands clenched. How dare this shemlen call her friend? How dare _any_ shemlen call her friend? She opened her mouth to say something angrily, but paused. Her hahren’s words came back to her. She was Dalish. She took a calming breath. That meant better than a shemlen.

“I am sorry for your losses, Duncan of the Grey Wardens,” she said stiffly. “But you cannot know what it is like to be Dalish. I have lost much more than a friend and a clan.” She took a deep breath, her face twitching into the hint of a snarl. “You do not know what it is like to be attacked by shemlen without provocation because your ears are a different shape and you do not recite the Chant,” she spat the last word.

“You do not know what it is like to watch your friends be slaughtered in front of your eyes, to stand helpless as women and fledglings are assaulted, to see a templar standing above you with his sword coming down…” She took a deep steadying breath. “To have _everything_ taken away from you by the shemlen. And now _this_ … You shemlen take what you want, and elves pay the price!”

A short silence fell between them. Renya shook her head as if to clear it. “Ir abelas, Duncan of the Grey Wardens. I am sorry for my anger,” she finished with forced deference, twisting the ring on her finger. "But not for my words."

The Grey Warden’s eyebrows had become increasingly higher during her tirade. “I… You are right. I have no idea what it is like to be an elf, and certainly not a Dalish elf,” he said kindly.

“Hm.”

The sun was setting, and the two watched the colors spread across the sky. Suddenly, Duncan rose and pulled both of his swords from their scabbards.

“Renya, ready yourself. Darkspawn are approaching.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth then Renya’s ears twitched at a quiet noise not too far away. She jumped to her feet and pulled her bow from her back, readying an arrow as she peered into the darkness. It occurred to her that Duncan could not have heard the darkspawn approach before her, but as this thought entered her mind, the darkspawn entered the clearing.

They were terrible creatures with black and grey skin and red staring eyes. The shorter ones wielded axes and bared their uneven teeth as they charged, and a few of the tall, screeching ones had long cruel claws. Others bore twisted swords darkened by blood. They ran at the two travelers like an angry wave intent on washing them away.

She loosed arrow after arrow, hitting her marks and thinning the group. Loosing another arrow, she sighed to herself. After this bout of shooting, she was sure Duncan would send her home. Tamlen would have laughed at her aiming.

Tamlen. With a yell, Renya pulled her hunting knife from her belt and thrust it into an advancing darkspawn. The knife made a sickening, wet sucking sound when she pulled it out, oddly satisfying and disgusting the elf at the same time. She buried the knife in another oncoming creature with a second shout before she returned to using her bow. She fitted an arrow easily, and spotted a darkspawn running toward Duncan’s back, raising its cruel weapon.

“I do not think so,” Renya growled, aiming. “You cannot escape the breath of Falon’din,” she murmured, letting the arrow fly. It found its mark and buried itself in the darkspawn’s neck. The monster made a gurgling sound and it fell as Duncan spun to defend himself. He saw the creature collapse at his feet and spun to decapitate another in one fluid movement. Soon Duncan and Renya were surrounded by darkspawn corpses.

“I see the stories of your people’s archery skills are true,” Duncan said, impressed, wiping his blades on the grass before re-sheathing them.

Renya realized her mouth was open and she closed it. Of course. Shemlen were not as accurate with their bows; they lacked the eyesight of the elves. But this shemlen… he was being nice to her for no reason that she could tell, and Renya certainly hadn’t given him any, either. Suddenly Renya felt bad for ignoring him for the better part of their journey.

“I… thank you for your kind words, Duncan of the Grey Wardens,” she said. “Although I think some of my clansmen would disagree with you,” she added, trying to make friendly conversation. “I am actually considered one of the worst archers of my people, if you can believe that.”

Duncan looked at her incredulously. Renya smiled and indicated the one arrow buried in the ground and the one stuck in a tree trunk. “I missed.”

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, and then both burst out laughing. When they had finished, Renya surveyed the Grey Warden carefully. She nodded as if deciding something.

“Ir abelas. I am sorry, Hahren,” she said genuinely, nodding to him in a little bow.

Duncan smiled. “You have nothing to apologize for, Renya. You have been asked to accept much in the past few days, and you really have no reason to trust humans, I am sure.” He considered her. “I hope my order and I will be able to change that view. We are not all like the hateful, hurtful creatures who have harmed you and your people.”

“Thank you, Hahren. I am glad to hear that,” Renya replied. She glanced around at the corpses around them. “Should we… do anything about this?”

“Yes. I should say so. We’ll make a pile a little further away and burn them. This way no other creature may happen on their flesh or their blood and become tainted,” Duncan replied, starting to heave up the nearest corpse.

After that disgusting task was completed and the pyre burning, Duncan turned to Renya. “So if you do not consider yourself an archer…?” he trailed off. “I hope that is not an offensive question to ask. I only mean to inquire about your history as a hunter.”

Renya nodded, assuming he wanted to know what best type of warrior she would be for the Grey Wardens. “I am much better with dual blades, but I left both of my dar’misu with my clan in case the need arose. While I am not much of an archer, I am considered quite the swordsman by my people, although I think I think I could learn a few tricks from you, Hahren!” It was true; she had been amazed by Duncan’s fluid and precise movements and wanted to learn the secrets for herself. Duncan smiled at her.

“Of course, Renya. I can hardly deny a willing apprentice. Here, let us practice with sticks until you have the motions down, and then I may loan you my daggers…” he said, already searching the ground.

The two went at it for over an hour, their movements lit by the funeral pyre and their campfire. Renya was a quick study, but Duncan always seemed to be a move ahead of her. Duncan, however, had appeared impressed from the moment they started sparring and had often nodded to himself when she would attack or defend. More time passed, when finally:

“Well done, Renya! That’s it!” he said happily when she finally managed to poke him with one of the sticks they had been using for practice. “Again…”

Both fires had burned low by the time they finished. Renya was surprisingly sore, having been hit with sticks more times than she cared to admit. This human was obviously a master swordsman, and Renya’s respect for him rose. There were no such swordsmen among her people, and she was looking forward to learning from him. Duncan assured her that the only thing separating their skills was years of experience.

“…and we’ll find you blades that you can call your own. As you know, a sword is like an extension of your own arm. Sticks are poor substitutes,” he concluded. “Once we are at Ostegar, we will be able to outfit you like a proper Grey Warden.” The human looked at her fondly, and Renya smiled. She didn’t have any memories of her father, but found herself hoping he had been like this human.

“Thank you, Hahren. You are better to me than I deserve,” she said. She smiled at Duncan’s puzzlement. “It is an old Dalish saying. It loses something in translation,” she admitted.

“You will make a fine Grey Warden,” Duncan said. “But tell me, why do you call me ‘hahren’? I know it means keeper, but I am not an elven keeper.”

Creators bless him. Renya would never have believed a shemlen would want to learn more about her people.

“It refers to a respected elder or leader, usually translated into the common tongue as ‘keeper.’ It is a term of respect for the Elvhen,” Renya explained. “I am not sure what the sh- the human equivalent would be.”

Duncan smiled, his dark eyes crinkling. “Thank you, Renya. I am honored that you would refer to me as such. I was afraid that I would only be referred to as ‘Duncan of the Grey Wardens’ to my face and ‘shemlen’ behind my back,” he said with humor. “Although if that were the case,” he added with mock seriousness. “I would have to begin returning the favor!”

Renya chuckled. “You would be the only shemlen I would ever allow to call me knife-ear without incident, Hahren,” she said with a smile. She made a face at him to make sure he knew she was trying to make a joke.

“Oh I wouldn’t dare,” he said conversationally as they walked back toward the dying campfire.

“Neither would I,” Renya added softly a few moments later. “Call you a shemlen, I mean. Not anymore. You are not like them.”

Duncan sat down on his bedroll and added another log to the fire. “I am glad you think so, Renya. I truly am. But, the night is getting darker and I am getting older. Perhaps we should turn in for the night? Would you like to take first or second watch?”

“I will take first watch, Hahren. I have much to think about and would rather my energy be put to use rather than be wasted by me trying to sleep.”

“As you say,” Duncan said, removing his belt and swords and tucking himself into his bedroll. He was glad the elf had begun to warm up to him. She held so much promise, and he looked forward to cultivating her skills as a Grey Warden in the coming years, after this battle at Ostegar was over. He yawned and turned on his side, smiling as he heard the elf’s soft footfall pad around their little camp. The last sound he remembered hearing before he fell asleep was Renya humming a sad tune to herself.

***

The journey to Ostegar took a little over a week, with Renya and Duncan traveling amicably after Renya finally started speaking to him. He had continued to drill her for her swordsmanship skills, and Renya was grateful.

“You are very fast, and you use that to your advantage. Good,” Duncan said, blocking one of her blows. “Now use your eyes, as well.”

“My eyes? Why would I not be using my eyes?” Renya asked, making a face and dodging an attack.

“Search for weaknesses in my defense, chinks in my armor, anything to give an advantage. Your blows are deadly already, but now they must be precise,” the man replied before lunging and nicking her in the armpit with one of the training sticks.

“Hey!” Renya glared at him. Duncan stepped back and waited for her response. Renya narrowed her eyes and studied him briefly, creating an image in her mind of how he attacked. She raised her blades and they began to circle each other, Duncan smiling slightly. Without warning, she attacked, and they fought in a flurry of movements before Renya suddenly twisted, knocked one of Duncan’s weapons out of his hand, and jabbed him in the shoulder before twisting behind him and tapping him on the back of his neck.

“Like that?” she asked, panting, withdrawing and standing in front of him. A grin slowly crept onto the Grey Warden’s face.

“Yes, exactly like that. Now you must learn do that from the moment you begin facing your opponent. Study them as they move, learn their patterns quickly, and strike. You will be a force to be reckoned with when we reach Ostegar, Renya,” he said, still smiling.

Renya nodded once in a little bow. “Thank you, Hahren.”

“Now, let us continue. We should reach Ostegar tomorrow if we press ourselves.”

***

True to Duncan’s estimate, they approached Ostegar the next day around midday. Renya couldn’t help but gape as the castle complex came into view. She had never seen anything so magnificent in her life. Although the castle was in ruins, the moss-covered stonework still reached up into the sky, and a mighty bridge connected two grand areas, each with its own towers and buildings.

“Are all Grey Warden castles like this, Hahren?” She had heard a story about a human who lived in a castle once, but it wasn’t anything like this.

The Warden looked at her and smiled. “This is not a castle of ours, Renya. We do have castles elsewhere, but not in Ferelden. And they are in better repair than Ostegar. Our only property in this country is a vault in Denerim, and a compound at the palace, which I will show to you one day. We are here because this is where most of the darkspawn activity has been concentrated. Come, there is much to do when we arrive.”

Renya followed Duncan until they reached the entrance to what was once a great courtyard. A man in golden armor approached them, and Renya looked at him warily. She glanced at Duncan, who looked surprised at the man’s approach. Renya felt herself stiffen, but reminded herself that everyone here must be a friend of Duncan’s. She took a deep breath. She must not let him down, no matter what any shemlen said to her. He was in charge of the Grey Wardens, so he was her hahren now.

“King Cailan!” Duncan called. “I didn’t expect…”

“A royal welcome? And here I thought you would be missing all the fun!” the man in the golden armor replied with humor. Renya stayed standing a little behind Duncan, watching the man curiously. His long hair almost matched the color of his armor. This was the shemlen king?

The king, however, was still talking. “I take it your hunt for new recruits went well? Is this she?” He looked at Renya, smiling politely.

“Ah, you are Dalish. A noble people, and I’m sorry I don’t know more about your customs,” he continued, ignoring the elf’s confusion.

“Allow me to introduce you, Your Majesty…” Duncan said. But the king cut him off; Renya raised an eyebrow but rearranged her features to remain neutral. She supposed shemlen kings could interrupt without it being considered rude; Duncan seemed merely resigned.

“Nonsense!” Cailan exclaimed. “No need to be so formal, Duncan. We are going to be bleeding together, are we not?” He turned his smiling face back onto Renya. “I am Cailan, King of Ferelden. What is your name, friend?”

Renya glanced at Duncan, who gave her an almost imperceptible nod. She took a deep breath. “My name is Renya Mahariel… Cailan, King of Ferelden,” she said, refusing to call him “Your Majesty.” She took another breath and managed a smile before nodding to him politely. “I am glad to meet you. And… I did not realize shem- human kings knew of the Dalish.”

“You are very kind. And yes,” Cailan said with a smile. “I have heard of your people. They are very honorable, and always serve the Wardens with distinction.”

Renya realized her mouth was open and shut it.

King Cailan, however, remained comfortable, an easy smile still on his face. “Well then, let me be the first to welcome you to Ostegar. Please know that you are _very_ welcome here! The Wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks.”

“Ma ser…thank you,” the elf replied, more confused than before. It was only after Duncan had engaged the king in conversation that she realized she probably should have added his title, or at least his name at the end, but he hadn’t seemed offended. That made her feel better. Cailan was not technically her king. The Dalish would never again submit, she reminded herself.

“And now I will be fighting with the great Duncan by my side after all. Glorious!” the king said happily, standing shoulder to shoulder with the Grey Warden. “Although I am not sure this is a true Blight. There has been no sign of an archdemon,” he added. The king sighed with disappointment. “Oh well. I had hoped that we would have a battle like in the tales, the king battling alongside the Grey Wardens to stem the tide of evil. But I suppose this will have to do… Either way, it will be glorious!”

While Renya appreciated that Cailan was so optimistic, it seemed out of place. Duncan appeared to feel the same way, if his face was any indication. She wondered if Cailan truly believed that the battle was going to go well, or was attempting bravado for his troops. Assuming it was the latter, Renya decided she liked the king, at least as far as she didn’t dislike him. A man willing to smile in the face of death for the sake of his people was one she could stand beside.

An older man in armor stomped up to them. “Cailan,” he said loudly, his voice sounding like the words rolled around in rocks before being spit out. “We must discuss plans for the battle. You cannot spend so much time with your troops and ignore your duties!”

“Allow me to introduce Loghain Mac Tir, the Hero of River Dane, and my father-in-law,” Cailan said fondly, indicating the man. Loghain Mac Tir did not look pleased.

“And who is this? Duncan, greetings, of course. And you?” His eyes fell on Renya, and Renya stiffened again.

“Ah,” Loghain said slowly. “A new _Warden_ recruit. How nice,” he added flatly. “And you’re an elf?” he asked with the same bored tone, eyes flicking up to her forehead and back to her eyes quickly. “Dalish, I see. Well, the Wardens accept all, don’t they? Welcome to Ostegar.” The man seemed less than thrilled with the whole situation. “Cailan, when you are ready?” He stomped away, leaving Renya feeling off-balance.

“Alas,” Cailan said after Loghain was out of earshot. “I must take my leave. Loghain is eager to bore me with his strategies.”

“You… think the battle will go well, then?” Renya asked. Cailan looked at her, and odd look in his eyes. It was quickly replaced with his kind smile.

“Of course. We have the Grey Wardens with us. What have we to fear?” He turned to face Duncan. “I will meet with you later, after I am finished with Loghain.” And back to Renya: “I look forward to seeing you again. Good day, Grey Wardens.” And with that, he was gone.

“He seems to think the battle is going to go well,” Renya commented with a frown. She noticed Duncan’s look. “You don’t agree?”

The older Warden sighed and indicated that they should walk on. “He is young, and full of the tales of old. I wonder if he realizes the danger we face, even without an archdemon yet present. But we will fight. I can only hope that this will help end the Blight before it can take a hold of this land…” he trailed off, looking across the great stone bridge.

“I have some business to attend to. Across the bridge is our camp. Follow when you are ready, and look for another Warden by the name of Alistair. He will help prepare you for the ceremony to become a Grey Warden. Here, take this,” he said, handing her some silver coins. “Find our smith and fit yourself with blades that suit you. After your ceremony…” he trailed off again, looking thoughtful. “We will outfit you with proper Grey Warden armor, as well.”

Renya looked down at her Dalish armor and nodded. While her green leather armor was good for hunting, she doubted it would stand up during a true military battle. She took the money and thanked him. “Am I not to see you until the battle, Hahren?”

Duncan shook his head. “I have much to attend to here, and Alistair will help settle you. But I will see you in time for your ceremony. After that, the battle will be upon us.”  
The elf felt her heart beat harder. “I understand, Hahren.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder; it felt solid and warm. “You will do well, Renya, don’t think otherwise.”

“Yes, Hahren. Thank you,” she replied, twirling the Keeper’s ring on her finger. He nodded to her and strode across the bridge. She watched him go, her thoughts flying faster than she could make sense of them.

A few minutes passed as Renya stared down into the canyon before her. She roused herself with a little shake and made her way across the bridge. A shemlen guard stood at the other end.

“Good afternoon, miss,” he said. He sounded tired. “You’re a Dalish,” he commented with a startle, suddenly much more awake. His eyes were wide. Renya looked at him, inwardly sighing. That seemed to be the standard greeting she was receiving today. Although the term _miss_ was a new one to her. “Takes all kinds to fight the Blight, I suppose,” he said easily, his thick Ferelden accent amusing to her. “If you need directions anywhere, let me know. I’d be happy to help you.”

“No, I will manage,” Renya replied evenly. She had spent her whole life navigating forests and tracking wild animals. There was no way she was going to ask a shemlen for help finding her way through a camp.

“As you say. Good day then, miss.”

“…good day.”

She entered the camp and was immediately overwhelmed by its sounds and sights. Tents were set up around the fairly large area and dogs barked from a kennel in the distance. A towering bonfire popped and snapped in the middle of it all. She heard the clacking of wood against wood and saw a few soldiers sparring against each other. Watching them, she understood why Duncan had been impressed with her skill. Some men only a few years younger than her were still quite clumsy with their swords.

Swords, yes. Remembering the money she had received from Duncan, she began to make her way through the camp. She saw a man in templar armor arguing with a man who appeared to be a mage, and her heart sped up. Turning her head away from the pair, she marched on, willing herself to remain calm.

 _All of these people must know Duncan,_ she intoned to herself. _Duncan respects elves. They must_ all _respect elves._ She didn’t really believe it, though. She passed a group of people kneeling and listening to a woman dressed in yellow and red robes that had a sun embroidered on the front.

“Those who oppose thee shall know the wrath of heaven,” the woman was chanting. “Field and forest shall burn, the seas shall rise and devour them…”

Renya’s stomach clenched. Followers of the shemlen Maker, listening to what might be a priestess. She quickened her pace, intent to pass them as quickly as possible, but there was no way for her to not hear the words being sung.

“The wind shall tear their nations from the face of the earth. Lightning shall rain down from the sky. They shall cry out to their false gods and find silence,” the priestess was saying. The people congregated before her were rocking and nodding, looking relieved. Glad, even, that people not like them would be eradicated from the earth.

Renya clenched her jaw and tried to block out the screams filling her memory. She walked still faster, trying to keep her head down. Suddenly someone grabbed her arm.

“There you are, you rabbit! Where have you been? I sent you to pick up my armor ten minutes ago. And why are you dressed like that?” the man said angrily, spinning her around. “Damn knife-ears…”

Snarling, Renya’s hunting knife was out and pressed against his throat before the man was able to react. She grabbed the top of his tunic to ensure he wasn’t able to escape.  
  
“You’re… you’re not… you’re a Dalish!” he gasped, staring at her vallaslin.

“So I have heard,” she growled.

“Please don’t hurt me,” he whimpered. Renya glared at him and pulled him a little closer. The knife pressed into his neck more.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” someone called, running toward her. She leaned in close to the man.

“I am not anyone’s elf. I am here to become a Grey Warden,” she spat at him with her teeth clenched.

“Your pardon, ser…” the man stammered. Renya talked over him.

“I never want to hear you call me or any other elf that name again. Do you understand me? If I hear that word again…” she let the words hang.

“Yes, ser. I mean, no, ser. Never again. Please…” the man gasped.

With a final grunt, Renya pushed the man away from her. He looked at her with terror before turning and running away. Metallic clanking behind her caught her attention. It was the templar she had seen arguing with the mage. She eyed him warily.

“Oh. You… you let him go. Well that’s good. I would hate to explain to Cailan why one of his soldiers had a closer shave than usual…” He seemed relieved, and not at all angry. Renya raised an eyebrow at him and didn’t say anything.

“You’re new here, I take it?” he asked kindly. “I’m Alistair, of the Grey Wardens. It’s nice to meet-”

“ _You_ are Alistair?” Renya said with horror, staring at the insignia on his breastplate. The man looked at her with confusion. “A _templar?_ ”  
“A Grey Warden,” he corrected quietly. If Renya heard him, she didn’t give any indication of it.

“No, I will not stand beside a templar. I will _not_ ,” she said, shaking her head and backing away.

Realization passed across Alistair’s face. “You must be Duncan’s new recruit. He mentioned that she was a Dalish warrior,” he added to himself. “I… yes, I apologize for my appearance,” he said softly, indicating his armor. “My Warden armor is being oiled. I understand templar and Dalish don’t exactly… get along,” he said uneasily. He smiled at Renya’s incredulous look. “Understatement of the age, I know. But I’m not one of them, not really,” he rushed on. “I never completed my training, and… well… I spent more time cleaning pots in punishment for my bad jokes than actually doing anything related to being a templar. Honest.”

Renya continued to glare at him, unconvinced. He sighed. “Here, you must be hungry after your journey. Let me find you something to eat. I’m famished, myself,” he said, before turning and walking toward a makeshift cooking area.

She followed him cautiously, torn between feeling angry and feeling confused. Why would a templar show her courtesy, even respect? And she had almost slit a shemlen’s throat and he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. Alistair retrieved two bowls of something and nodded in the direction of some wooden tables. Renya followed him, still feeling uneasy. They sat and he placed one of the bowls in front of her.

“It tastes better than it looks, honest,” he said with a smile, picking up his spoon. Renya followed his lead and took a bite. He was right about the food, but that wasn’t saying much.  
“You know, I never liked that humans treated elves so poorly,” he said a few minutes later. Renya finished chewing her mouthful slowly.

“No? That is odd for a templar,” she said somewhat coldly.

“I suppose it is. But like I said, I was never like them. Not really. You see… I’m a bastard child, and my mother was sent away right after I was born. I don’t know anything about her. I worked with the servants in the arl of Redcliffe’s castle. As such, I wasn’t treated all that well. My only friends growing up were elves. They were the only ones who were nice to me.” He twirled his spoon uncomfortably. “Even the adults. More often than not it was the elves who took care of me, not the people…”

“Elves are people, too, sheml- Grey Warden,” Renya interjected flatly.

“Yes, you’re right,” Alistair agreed. “I’m sorry. All this to say that I understand what it’s like to be looked down on. And I never understood why the elves were treated so poorly. I can understand your difficulty now that you’re here…”

Renya dropped her spoon into her bowl. “Do not compare yourself to me, templar!” she said angrily.

Alistair looked at a loss for words. “I only meant…” he stopped, not wanting to make it worse.

Renya glared at him for a few more seconds before returning to her food. Duncan had told her to find Alistair, and here he was. She shook her head. _A templar._ What would her clan say? She unconsciously shook her head again. No self-respecting elf would fight alongside a templar.

But… Duncan had wanted her to meet this human. He must therefore be someone worth knowing, she reasoned. And he was trying to be nice and explain to her that he actually respected elves, however clumsy his attempt had been. How could she expect a shemlen to understand the difference between a city elf servant and the Elvhen? _Or the difference between a human and an elf,_ she scoffed to herself. She gripped the ring her Keeper had given her. She was an honorable Dalish, and she had to remember that.

“Ir abelas, Grey Warden. I am sorry,” she said, looking at him again. “It has been a very confusing few days.”

“I can’t imagine. But I see you’re finished. Do you want seconds?” he said, rising and reaching for her bowl. She put her hand over her stomach.

“No, thank you. I think it is a taste I will have to acquire,” she said, unaware of the disgust on her face. Alistair laughed.

“I guess Dalish food is better than two-days-before-a-military-campaign food,” he said amicably. “That reminds me. Tomorrow I will be taking you and the other new recruits through some combat training.”

Renya rose and followed him as he returned the bowls.

“After that, in the afternoon we will be going out to, er, collect some darkspawn blood,” he said, glancing at her. Her eyebrows were raised, but she looked interested. He relaxed a little. “It’s for the ceremony to become a Grey Warden. Nothing to worry about, really.”

“Tel’enfenim. Nothing to worry about,” Renya echoed. For the second time, she remembered the money Duncan had given to her. “Do you know where I can purchase weapons? Duncan wished for me to be outfit as a warrior.”

Alistair looked pleased to be needed. “Yes, right over there. Here, I’ll come with you,” he added chivalrously.

“That is not necessary, Alistair of the Grey Wardens.”

He laughed. “It’s just Alistair. But if you are sure… I don’t want you to feel like you must defend yourself against anyone again.”

She cocked a half-smile at him. “So you would accompany me for others’ safety, and not mine,” she observed with a little humor.

“Erm, well, when you put it like that,” Alistair retorted carefully. But Renya actually laughed.

“Ma serannas, but I promise not to diminish the army’s numbers. I am sure I will see you for the evening meal, Alistair,” she said, nodding at him.

“Right. Well if you need anything, come find me. I will be around here somewhere,” he said, vaguely indicating the camp. He nodded to her and left.

“And what do we have here?” came a voice behind Renya as she walked through the camp. She turned warily and saw a very annoyed-looking human staring at her.

“Yes?” Renya said flatly. “What do you want?”

The man shook his head. “You have no right being here, you know. Maker’s breath.”

Renya felt her lip twitch into the hint of a snarl but she didn’t say anything, reminding herself of her promise to not kill anyone at the camp.  
“Why don’t you go back where you belong?”

“I am here to become a Grey Warden,” Renya said stiffly through clenched teeth. But the man simply looked startled.

“A Grey Warden? You?” His eyes swept her up and down, and a small smile began to creep onto his features. “Well that’s just a waste, let me tell you. A pretty little elf like you needs someone to protect her out in this big world, don’t she?”

Renya stiffened. “What?”

The man came closer. “You’re delicate things, women. Elves…” he said as his gazed traced over her ears and across the marks on her forehead. “You don’t belong on a battlefield. You don’t belong with a sword in your hand. You belong at home, making a man’s dreams come true…”

Renya’s lip twitched and she went for her hunting knife as the man continued to advance. But before he got to her:

“Move along, you.” A gruff voice interrupted them and stopped the soldier in his tracks. Renya looked up into the very stern-face of Loghain Mac Tir, who was glaring at the soldier. “That’s no way to talk to her, or any woman here. Now go.”

The man stared up at Loghain in surprise. Loghain towered above him, and when the man didn’t seem like he was going to move, the larger soldier crossed his arms. The man hastily saluted.

“Yes, ser. Of course.” And he scurried away. Loghain turned to face Renya, his face set with military directness.

“You should not be discouraged from being a soldier, or a Warden,” he began without preamble. “Just because you are an attractive young woman.” He clenched and unclenched his jaw once. “One of the best warriors I ever knew was a woman.” Looking away thoughtfully, he added, “If he troubles you again, report him to his commanding officer.” He glanced back at her, and Renya became very aware of how tall Loghain Mac Tir was; he was even taller than Alistair.

“I bid you a good day.” And he walked away, his heavy armor clanking as he moved.

Renya blinked, feeling more wrong-footed than she had when she first met the strange human. She gave herself a little shake and moved on.

She found the smith a few minutes later without further incident. He, too, expressed surprised at her origin.

“A Dalish?” he said. Renya smiled wryly. “Takes all kinds, I suppose. What can I help you with, ser?”

Fifteen minutes later, Renya had purchased a steel longsword and a shorter sword for herself, as well as a belt to hold them. She was especially pleased when she saw that she could keep her hunting knife with her, dangling slightly in front of the longsword at her hip. She had brought Ashalle’s gift with her, and she did not want to give it up. As she walked away from the smith, she smiled. She had heard that shemlen had mirrors that were used only to see their reflections, and not for magical purposes, and hoped there was one in the camp. Once she had her Grey Warden armor and was outfit with her swords and bow, she was sure she would be a grand sight.

As it was, she adjusted her weapons over her Dalish armor and meandered through the camp, wondering what she was supposed to do next. Avoiding the people praying, she wandered toward a far corner of the camp. On her way, she almost walked into an older woman with grey hair who introduced herself as Wynne, a mage from the Circle Tower.

“You are one of the new recruits, are you not?” she asked, looking at Renya critically.

“Yes,” she said, waiting for the mage to observe that she was, in fact, Dalish.

But it never came. “I’m glad to see so many people from across Ferelden here,” she commented. “It is going to take us all working together to end this Blight. We are all on the same side, something that some would do well to remember.” She glared at something, or someone, across the camp, but when Renya turned she couldn’t make out what Wynne was looking at.

“I suppose you are preparing for your Joining ceremony?”

Renya nodded. The older woman smiled. “Good luck to you, then. It is an honor to be a part of the Grey Wardens. I look forward to ending this Blight with you.”

“And you, Wynne,” Renya replied politely before moving on.

A little further down, she saw a group of men and women standing in an odd formation, swaying as if trees in the wind. They were surrounded by swirls of color. As Renya approached, she suddenly found her way blocked by two templar. She skipped back a step, hating herself for being startled by the likes of them.

“Kindly do not disturb the mages while they are in the Fade, ser,” one said smartly.

“The Fade?” Renya asked, looking around the mailed creature in front of her, determined to sound off-handed. She nodded with realization. “Oh, the Beyond.” She had heard stories that mages in the Beyond, what shemlen called the Fade, were very vulnerable. “I will leave them to their work, then.”

“Thank you, ser. Maker’s blessings on you.”

Renya nodded and walked away, puzzled. Those templar had seemed more concerned for the mages’ safety due to their foray into the Beyond than with the fact that a Dalish elf was standing before them. And then they had blessed her. She shook her head. Nothing about the day was making sense to her. She continued walking through the camp, twirling the ring on her finger, until she came up to the kennels. Strong warhounds were in the pens, and Renya smiled at them. She had met a dog only once, but it had been a friendly creature.

“Kindly step back, ser,” a man said as he approached her. “That one mabari is sick. Why,” he added, looking at her. “You’re a Dalish.”

“Yes, and you are a human,” she replied dryly before she could stop herself.

The man nodded wearily. “I beg your pardon, ser, I didn’t mean any offense. I’m quite tired, you see, from caring for this one here.” He pointed to a mabari who was lying on the ground, moving feebly.

“What’s wrong with him?” Renya asked.

“His master died, and the poor thing has swallowed some darkspawn blood. I’ve been able to help him, but there’s one ingredient I need that would help him mend right up. It’s a flower, which seems simple enough. Unfortunately it’s in the marshes, and I daren’t go out looking for it. The old boy might not make it,” he finished sadly.

Renya looked at the hound, who gazed at her with sad eyes. She turned back to the kennel master. “I will be going out tomorrow. I will look for the flower, if you tell me what it is.”

“You’d do that? Thank you, miss,” he said.

Renya smiled at what she now assumed was a term of respect. It was nice, coming from a human. But the kennel master was still talking.

“Andraste’s grace, it’s called. It’s a white flower with red in the middle. It’ll stick right out, it will, from all the green stuff in the area. I’d be much obliged, ser.” The man looked back at the dog. “I hate to be a bother, but I have another favor to ask you, if you’d indulge me. Since you’re Dalish and all…” he said, glancing at her forehead.

This should be good. “What is it?” Renya asked, trying to keep her voice pleasant.

“This hound, he’s… he needs to be muzzled so I can give him his medicine. But he won’t let me put it on him. Don’ know what’s got into him,” he murmured, looking at the dog. “But the Dalish, you’re good with animals, aren’t you? If it’s not too much trouble, do you think you could try?”

Good with animals? Maybe the halla keepers were good with animals, but Renya was a hunter. The animals she came across usually wound up dead. Looking at the sad mabari hound, though, she nodded. “I will do my best.”

She took the muzzle and entered the pen. The mabari growled at her as she knelt before it. “It’s alright, boy. I’m trying to help you,” she murmured in Dalish. The hound cocked its head at her and stopped growling. Its whole body relaxed, and Renya leaned in and put the muzzle on the dog. “There,” she murmured, still in Dalish. “I’ll find that flower and you’ll be good as new soon.” The dog huffed at her, as if thinking he would believe it when he saw it.

She left the pen. The kennel master was looking at her with wide eyes. “Thank you ser. I’m much obliged.”

“Sathem. You are welcome. Keep me informed of his condition, if you would.”

“Yes, ser. Good day to you, ser.”

“Good day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered what the Warden's journey with Duncan was like, and I never liked how easily the Warden just assimilated to the war camp at Ostegar, especially as a Dalish whose interactions with humans haven' been good.  
> Renya's pride as a Dalish took her in a surprising direction - I expected her to be more vicious, but she surprised me as I was writing this!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> vallaslin - blood writing; the Dalish facial tattoos  
> hahren - Dalish elder or leader; term of respect  
> sathem - you're welcome
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out[AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com)for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	10. A Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renya meets the other Warden recruits and must interact with a servant city-elf. When the Wardens must go into the Wilds to collect darkspawn blood, they find someone they don't expect.

The sun was beginning to hang low in the sky when Renya decided to look for Alistair again. She had spent the day wandering the camp and learning what she could about the upcoming battle, and had even joined with some of the soldiers practicing their sword skills on dummies. As she made her way to the little cluster of tables where she and Alistair had eaten lunch, she saw two men glancing around nervously. Her ears pricked up as she heard one mention Alistair’s name. She walked over and sat down across from them.

“Good evening, miss,” the shorter human said. “Is there something we can help you with?”

“Yes, I am looking for Alistair,” Renya said. The man smiled.

“You’re the other recruit? Good to meet you. My name is Daveth. We’re to be initiated together, then!” he said happily.

“You’re Dalish? And a woman?” the other man commented.

“Pride of the arl’s guard, with observation skills like that, Ser Jory,” Daveth commented. “What’s wrong with either? We’re all here to stop the Blight, aren’t we?”

Renya decided she liked Daveth.

“Nothing, nothing,” the other said quickly. “I am just surprised that a woman is allowed to be a Grey Warden.”

“And why is that?” Renya asked, keeping her tone light but leaning across the table slightly.

“There haven’t been many,” Ser Jory replied with a little shrug. “I wonder now if there is a reason for it…” he added, looking midly worried.

“All are welcome in the Grey Wardens if they possess the skills.” Alistair came up and sat down beside Renya, across from the other two men. “I see we’ve all met each other. Good. Shall we get something to eat?”

“An elf already came by, she should be back soon,” Ser Jory commented. He realized what he said and glanced at Renya, who was glaring at him. Daveth chuckled nervously.  
  
Alistair shot a look at Renya, then looked around for the servant elf. “I’ll just… go see if she needs help, then. I’ll be right…”

“Here you are, sers.” An elf appeared next to Renya with a platter of meat and placed it in the middle of the table. The elves’ eyes met for a moment, Renya’s shocked and the other elf’s sad, before the city elf looked away.

Now that she saw one up close, she could see how heartbreaking the city elves really were. The only other city elf she had ever met was Pol, who had run away from his ‘alienage’ to rejoin the Dalish, and he had worn the same sad look at the beginning. Maybe they weren’t all trying to be like the shemlen. Maybe they were simply trying to live their lives, just like the Dalish. The serving elf bowed slightly.

“Anything else?” she asked quietly, carefully not looking at anyone seated at the table, especially Renya.

The men murmured in the negative, looking uncomfortable. The elf bowed again and left. Renya grabbed her arm to deter her, and she stood so her back was to the table. The elf looked at her apprehensively.

“Yes, I am Dalish,” Renya said with some humor. “The shemlen have been telling me so all day.” The other elf smiled.

“I saw what you did with that soldier earlier. It’s good to see another elf standing up to him; he can be… entitled,” she commented carefully. Renya clenched her jaw and nodded in understanding. She fished in her pouch for a few coins and pressed them into the elf’s hands.

“For your trouble,” Renya murmured. “I wish I could do more for you, falon.” She hated feeling helpless.

“My mother knew some Dalish words,” the woman said with a smile. She looked at the coins in her hands and back at Renya. “She would want me to say, ma serannas. Thank you, messere. You are kind. Good luck in the coming days.”

Renya thanked her, returning the smile, and watched as the elf walked away. She turned and resumed her seat, pretending she hadn’t noticed Alistair watching. After that, the conversation turned to the next day’s events. Both men nodded without comment when Alistair told them about the morning training, but Ser Jory balked at venturing into the Korcari Wilds to obtain the darkspawn blood.

“I won the tournament at Highever to secure my place with the Grey Wardens,” he said. “I do not see why we need to be tested more.”

“Don’t complain so much, Ser Jory,” said Daveth, poking him in the shoulder. “This is a noble cause, and we need to do what we’re told to be a part of it. It’ll be worth it when we save the world.”

“Collecting darkspawn blood will be worth it?” Ser Jory asked in disbelief. He shook his head. “Will there be any other tests?”

Renya noticed that Alistair was oddly silent, staring at his food, but didn’t comment. She rubbed the vallaslin on her forehead thoughtfully.

“Actually, you will be looking for some important papers for the Wardens,” said a deep voice. Renya smiled and looked up into the familiar face of Duncan.

“Hahren,” she said, rising. “Please, will you join us for the evening meal?”

Duncan looked at her with a smile. “As much as I would like that, Renya, I must meet with the king.” He sighed. Looking at the assembled group, he continued. “There is a cache filled with papers that the Wardens may need soon. They are treaties that oblige armies from across the nation to aid us in the event of a Blight. We may need them sooner than I would like to think…” He looked at Alistair. “The chest should be in the ruins of the Grey Warden fortress near here.”

“Won’t it be destroyed then?” Daveth asked. Duncan looked only mildly concerned.

“I hope not. There are powerful spells protecting it, so there should be no trouble. When you return from this task, you will undergo the Joining and become Grey Wardens,” he said somberly.

Renya glanced at the men across from her. Ser Jory looked like he was about to be sick, and Daveth was looking at Duncan with determination. Through the course of their earlier conversation, Renya had learned that Daveth was recruited because he had almost succeeded in stealing Duncan’s money-pouch. Odd to think that the thief was the most willing of the two humans recruits, and that the knight of an arl was so meek. Duncan bid them goodnight and strode off toward the king’s tent.

“Great, that’s just wonderful,” Ser Jory muttered. “I didn’t sign on for this. How I wish I hadn’t left Highever.” His voice was so low it was swallowed by the noises of the camp, but Renya was fairly certain she had heard most of the words. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. This man was obviously here for the wrong reasons. She smiled wryly. She was here because she had been forced to leave her clan; perhaps she was here for the wrong reasons, as well.

Time passed and they finished their meal. Alistair stood and the three recruits followed him. “I took the liberty of setting up your tents,” he said, pointing toward where other Grey Wardens and members of the army were bedding down. “We will meet in the training yard early tomorrow morning, right past dawn, and we’ll get ourselves squared away.”

“Good night, then, Ser Alistair, Renya,” Daveth said politely before turning and walking away. Ser Jory nodded at Alistair and followed Daveth. Renya started to follow the two men when Alistair grabbed her arm.

“I… also took the liberty of setting up your tent a little further away,” he said quietly, pointing to a lone tent a little way from the rest. “I figured you didn’t want to be so close to so many humans your first night here. But you are still in the complex, and I will be close by if anyone troubles you,” he finished kindly.

Renya smiled at him, touched that he would think of such a small detail. “Ma serannas, Alistair,” she said genuinely. “Thank you. I did not expect such kindness from a human and a templar.”

“Grey Warden,” he corrected again with a small smile.

“Ir abelas. Yes. Grey Warden. I will not forget again.” She returned the smile. “Good night, Alistair.”

“Good night.”

He watched her walk away, shaking his head. The ongoing war between the templar and Dalish was ridiculous. Renya seemed to only want to be treated with respect, a little consideration, like everyone else. He assumed all Dalish were the same. Why hunt them? Didn’t Andraste and the Maker preach peace? He sighed. That was why he had been so glad to leave the templar when Duncan came for him. The worldview held by the Wardens better matched his own, and he would actually be fighting for a cause he wholeheartedly believed in. As he was staring, he saw the elf turn, and in the dimming light it seemed as if her eyes slightly glowed. He blinked his eyes to clear them, but when he opened them again she had retired into the tent. Yawning, Alistair walked over to his own tent and crawled in. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

***

Alistair woke a little before dawn, as he always did. He offered a prayer to the Maker and Andraste before donning his Grey Warden armor, hoping it would make a better impression on the elf. He left his tent and roused Daveth, who grumbled at him with bleary eyes and tousled hair, but rose and began to prepare for the morning training. Jory was already practicing by the dummies, swinging his massive two-handed sword. Alistair sighed. He had left Renya until last, not out of a desire to allow her more sleep but out of fear of how she would react to being awoken in a strange place by a human she barely knew. Luckily, when he walked over to her tent, her found her already awake. She appeared to be meditating, facing the trees. He approached her as quietly as he could, not wishing to disturb her.

She opened her eyes. “This is the first time I have not slept in a forest,” she commented by way of a greeting. As if remembering her manners, she added, “Good morning, Alistair of the Grey Wardens.”

“Good morning. I’m sorry to have disturbed you; I was trying to be quiet…”

The elf chuckled and indicated toward her pointed ears. “They are not just for show, you know,” she said kindly, pricking them up for emphasis.

Alistair returned the smile. “I guess not. Are you ready?”

Renya rose in one fluid motion, grabbing her swords and sheathing them easily. “Yes, let’s go.”

***

The morning went by quickly. Alistair paired them off, and Renya found herself watching Alistair and Daveth spar with wooden weapons while she and Jory sat on the sidelines. Alistair was very talented with his sword and shield. Renya watched him with interest; she hadn’t yet seen a human fight with a shield, at least not as a spectator.

While he made it look easy, she decided to stay with her dual blades. Daveth was fast and got in a number of hits, but Renya could tell that he was used to stealing, not killing. Part of her felt glad about this – one less human able to harm an elf – but part of her wanted to help him. After all, if he was to be a Grey Warden, he would have to be more accurate.  
“Well done,” Alistair said some time later, panting as he lowered his sword. Daveth nodded at him. “Ser Jory? Renya? You’re up next.”

Daveth smiled at her as she entered the ring. Renya returned it and picked up two wooden swords from a bin of practice weapons while Ser Jory selected a large two-handed sword for himself. Renya looked at the weapon and the very tall man before her and steeled herself. She would not be able to parry any attack of his; she would just have to make sure she was out of the way when he swung. With a swallow, she nodded at him to show she was ready. They raised their weapons and Renya began to circle him. He followed her lead.

“I beat countless knights at the tournament in Highever to earn my place here,” he said harshly. “One little rabbit will not keep this from me.”

Renya frowned. There was no need to start insulting her. During her meditation she had decided that she and the other recruits were all on the same side and she would treat them as such, regardless of what she thought of them personally. But, she would play by his rules, she supposed. Maybe it was a battle tactic of humans to insult their opponents. “I am not keeping anything from you, shem. We are all here to be Grey Wardens.”

“I am highly decorated,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “You stand no chance.”

The elf wondered what he was trying to do. Apparently, so did Daveth.

“Oy,” the shorter man called. “Are you going to fight her or bore her to death with your credentials?”

With a bellow, Jory lunged, and Renya barely had time to move before the large wooden blade crashed down onto where she had been standing. She rolled and brought herself back to her feet in one movement, and heard Alistair grunt, impressed. But Jory swung the sword up again, and Renya ducked to avoid the swing that would have decapitated her if the blade were steel and knocked her unconscious as it was. She dodged in as Jory was recovering from his swing and jabbed at his leg, knocking one of his knees out from under him, before darting away.

A raven landed on a broken column not too far away, cawing vaguely. Unfortunately, Renya was the only one who heard it, and her glance cost her. The sword swung down on her right arm, causing her to lose her weapon and the feeling in her arm.

“Well done,” she said, panting. She had meant it, but it only seemed to enrage Jory, who slashed at her again. Renya danced out of the way, frowning. He was not moving rationally; there was no pattern to what he did. But… there it was. There was a moment after he swung that he paused to collect his strength again. True, it was only a moment, but it was there. She smiled.

Alistair turned to Daveth. “She’s figured something out,” he commented quietly. Daveth was watching the spar with interest, and nodded.

Jory picked up his sword again and lunged, and Renya rolled behind him, rising and jabbing him in the shoulder with her left-handed weapon. He roared and swung at her again, but Renya was ready, ducking and then diving in between his legs. She scrambled to her feet, grabbed the knight’s shoulder, and pressed her wooden blade into his throat from behind.

“I win,” she said evenly before releasing him. As she walked away, she heard him grumble something about a “knife-ear,” and she spun on her heel.

“What did you call me, shemlen?” she said venomously.

“Okay, okay, whoa. No need to start name calling,” Alistair said quickly.

“But he-”

“Ser Jory,” Alistair said, giving Renya a look. “You too. Now, let’s switch. Daveth, you’re with Renya, and Jory, you’re with me.”

“Great. Go easy on me, friend,” Daveth said to Renya with humor.

“I make no such promises.” She smiled to show she was joking. The human chuckled as they entered the ring.

***

Thankfully the feeling in Renya’s arm had fully returned by the time they were to leave the camp. Alistair had also enlisted the help of the mage Wynne, who tutted when she found out what happened.

“You’ll have to be more careful, dear,” she said, whispering her fingers along Renya’s arm. Renya winced as the feeling came back, and wiggled her fingers. “There, no permanent damage. Wear heavier armor next time, isn’t that what it’s for?”

“Yes, Wynne. Ma serannas. Thank you,” Renya replied, making a fist and releasing it experimentally. Everything seemed to be in good working order.

Once the little party had armed themselves with their weapons, they made their way to the gate. Interestingly, Alistair hung back, so Renya approached the guard.

“Gate’s closed. No one is to leave the camp without the permission of the king.”

Renya blinked at him. She was sure the king wouldn’t mind, especially if he knew it was for Grey Warden business. The king seemed enamored by the order. She squared her shoulders.

“We have business in the Wilds; we are running an errand for the Grey Wardens,” she said crisply, biting back the desire to refer to him as a shemlen.

The guard looked at her with interest. “You’re Dalish, aren’t you?”

Renya rubbed the vallaslin on her forehead in exasperation.

“An elf Warden. Now I’ve seen everything,” he said to himself, shaking his head. Renya wisely stayed silent, hearing the blood pumping in her ears.

“The gates open for you, just be careful. The forest is not safe for anyone, not even a Grey Warden. There are darkspawn about,” he warned her before turning and opening the gate. He stepped back and looked at the little party.

“Ma serannas. Thank you,” Renya said in the same smart tone, striding past him, missing the man shaking his head at her as she left the camp.

It wasn’t long before they were in the shadow of the forest. In Renya’s opinion it was more of a marsh, and more than once she got her foot stuck in a soppy mud hole and almost lost her boots. They made their way deeper into the Wilds. A raven cawed, and Renya’s ears twitched toward the sound. She glanced at Alistair and tapped his armor, catching his attention.

“Blue is a better color on you,” she said with meaning. He grinned.

“Yes, I decided to leave that old templar armor behind. I like the griffin a little more than the radiant sword, too,” he said, pointing to the silver insignia on his breastplate.  
Renya was about to respond, smiling, when they walked into a devastated clearing. Human corpses lay about, and the stench was vile.

“Ugh,” said Daveth, drawing up next to Alistair and Renya. “What happened here?”

The elf’s ears twitched again, and she grabbed Alistair’s arm, pointing to a severely injured man crawling his way over to him.

“Please. Who…is…that? Grey Wardens?” he gasped out.

“Well, he’s not as dead as he looks,” Alistair quipped.

“My scouting band was attacked by darkspawn,” he said, beginning to collapse onto the ground.

“Here, I have some bandages in my pack,” Alistair said, quickly kneeling and tending to the man. Soon, he seemed able to pull himself to his feet.

“Thank you,” the man said weakly. He looked past them in the direction they had come from.

Alistair noticed. “Go back to camp. Have one of the mages heal you,” he said kindly.

“Thank you,” the man said again before limping away.

“Did you hear that? A whole group of seasoned warriors decimated by the darkspawn. What hope do we four have against them?” Ser Jory asked, the panic in his voice matched on his face. He looked around at his companions, who did not seem to share his level of discomfort. “I am no coward, but… this is reckless. We should go back.”

Renya looked at him incredulously. “Go back? You say you are surprised Grey Wardens allow women and elves in their ranks, yet I have more courage than you will ever have,” she said angrily.

“I’m not a coward,” he said harshly. “You don’t see me fleeing, do you?”

“Few look forward to seeing darkspawn up close, Ser Jory, but you needn’t worry,” Alistair said now before Renya could respond. “Grey Wardens are able to sense the presence of darkspawn, so however cunning they may be, we will not be caught unawares. That is why I am here,” he finished seriously.

Daveth slapped Jory on the shoulder. “See that, Ser Knight? We may be killed but at least we’ll know when it’s coming!”

Renya chuckled. She wasn’t looking forward to meeting more darkspawn either, but that was her duty now, especially if she was to become a Grey Warden.

They walked on. Out of the corner of her eye, Renya spotted a white flower with a red center, and a smile broke onto her face. She hurried over and picked a few, carefully putting them in her pack.

“I’m glad you appreciate the nature,” Alistair said with amusement. “But can’t flower-picking wait until later?”

“I suppose the Dalish cannot focus their minds anywhere but on their own fancies,” Jory muttered. Renya shot him an angry look.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked. “Have I done something to offend you?”

Ser Jory was about to reply when Alistair shushed them. “There are darkspawn nearby,” he whispered, advancing with the other two men. Renya hung back. In response to Alistair’s questioning look, she pulled her bow out and fitted an arrow.

“Until they get too close,” she said. Alistair nodded.

“Right. Let’s go.”

There were a fair amount of darkspawn, and Renya was glad that her shooting wasn’t too bad – she managed to thin the horde a bit as Alistair and the other charged. Soon, though, she needed to switch to her swords. She flashed around the field in a blur of glinting steel and green armor, attacking darkspawn from the back while the more heavily-armored warriors attacked from the front. The small band of four was soon standing with a heap of darkspawn around them.

“Wow,” Daveth said, impressed. “I’m glad we were using wooden swords before.”

Renya laughed. Alistair, meanwhile, was handing vials to the recruits. A heavy silence fell over them as they remembered why they were here. As one, the three knelt and collected the darkspawn blood with varying degrees of disgust on their faces.

A fluttering sound caught Renya’s attention, and as the three men discussed which way to travel to find the ruins, Renya searched the trees for the sound. Her eyes came to rest on a raven that appeared to be looking at her, and she stared at it with narrowed eyes. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was watching her, and had been for some time.

The raven fixed her with a gold eye for a moment more before cawing and flying away. Renya tracked its path with her eyes warily.

“Okay, so, it should just be further down this hill,” Alistair said, grabbing Renya’s attention. “Renya, are you okay?”

“What? Yes, down this hill. Let us go, then,” she said smartly.

They set off without another word. About half an hour of silent marching later, they came across the ruins, a broken chest sitting in the middle.

“Oh no…” Alistair mumbled. Renya approached it cautiously.

“And what have we here?” a woman asked, appearing out of nowhere, making all four companions jump. Renya stared at the woman, whose gold eyes were sparkling at her with recognition. The color matched that of the raven Renya glimpsed along their journey, and the woman’s smile was of one who held secrets and answers buried in her mind. She advanced toward them.

“Are you vultures, I wonder? Scavengers come to pick at the corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?” The woman looked at each of the four, until her gaze settled on Renya.

“I am neither. The Grey Wardens once owned this tower,” Renya replied carefully. This woman was a shapeshifter. The only shapeshifter Renya knew of was Asha’bellanar, and this was not she.

The black-haired woman was unimpressed. “’Tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have claimed this desiccated corpse. Do not use names that no longer have bearing here.” She walked smoothly over to the broken chest. “I have watched your progress for some time. ‘Where do they go?’ I wondered. ‘Why are they here?’ And now you disturb ashes that have not been touched for so long. Why is that?” she said, her voice smooth as silk.

“Don’t answer that,” Alistair said sharply. “She looks Chasind and that means others may be nearby.”

“Oh, you fear barbarians will swoop down on you?” the woman asked, barely concealing the amusement in her voice.

“Yes,” Alistair commented dryly. “Swooping is bad.”

Renya barely suppressed a chuckle at his response.

“She’s a Witch of the Wilds, she is! She’ll turn us into toads!” Daveth, for the first time, sounded afraid.

“Witch of the Wilds… such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no mind of your own? You there,” the witch said, settling her attention on Renya again. “Women do not frighten as easily as little boys. Tell me your name and I will tell you mine.”

The witch’s small smile was frozen, but almost playful. Her eyes twinkled with mischief, but her appearance was so alarming that even Renya hesitated for a moment. This was a test, she knew. And both the witch and the men behind her were about to judge her.

“Andaran atish’an. I am Renya Mahariel of the Sabrae clan. It is nice to meet you,” she said politely, nodding at the woman. She heard a scoff behind her, but wasn’t sure from whom it came.

But the witch seemed impressed. “Now that is a proper civil greeting, even in the Wilds! You may call me Morrigan.” She smiled at Renya. “Now, shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in this chest, something that is here no longer…”

“Here no longer?” Alistair exclaimed angrily. “You stole them, didn’t you? You’re… some kind of… sneaky witch thief!”

Renya closed her eyes so he wouldn’t see her roll them. She opened them again to find Morrigan looking at him with a bemused look on her face.

“How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?”

“Very easily, it seems.” Alistair’s anger was mounting. “Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest that you return them immediately!”

“Alistair, don’t threaten her,” Renya whispered urgently. A shapeshifting human was powerful, indeed, and if she was somehow connected to Asha’bellanar…

Alistair looked at her without understanding, but Renya ignored him, turning back to the witch. “Morrigan, do you know where the documents are?”

“’Twas my mother who removed them. She no doubt still has them.”

“Your mother?” Renya said, her heart racing. “Could you take us to her?” she asked politely.

“A sensible request. The first one I have yet heard,” Morrigan replied. “I like you.”

“I’d be careful, Renya. First she likes you and then next thing – zap! – frog time,” Alistair said softly, hoping Renya’s hearing was as good as she said it was.

“She’ll put us all in the pot, she will!” Daveth’s interjected, still looking at the woman with terror.

To Renya’s surprise, it was Ser Jory who settled the matter. “If the pot is warmer than this forest, it’ll be a nice change,” he said to the shorter man next to him.

“Follow me then if it pleases you,” Morrigan said, and then walked off without a backward glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered if the recruits really got along during the preparations for the battle at Ostegar. Poor Jory turned into a bit more of a jerk than he is in the game...
> 
> Translations (ones not in the text):  
> Ir abelas - I'm sorry  
> andaran atish'an - literally "I welcome you to my place of peace"; a formal Dalish greeting  
> Asha'bellanar - literally "eternal woman" or "woman of many years": a name for a character we'll meet a little later!
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out[AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com)for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	11. Join Us, Brothers and Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions return from their errand in the Wilds, and the recruits join Duncan and Alistair for their Joining.

Morrigan took them on a very circuitous route through the Wilds, obviously trying to disorient them to their surroundings. She kept glancing at Renya, who for a time pretended not to notice. They walked on for a while, until Renya finally turned to the witch.

“You have been staring at me for the better part of this walk,” Renya observed lightly. “Have you never seen a Dalish elf before?”

“I have,” Morrigan said simply. “But from a great height,” she added, giving Renya a look. Renya cocked an eyebrow at her, noticing again the striking similarity between Morrigan’s eye color and that of the raven she had met in the woods.

“I see. And?”

“And what? ‘Tis an odd question to ask, is it not?” Morrigan asked her evenly.

“Well, you have seen me up close. What is it that intrigues you so?”

Morrigan looked thoughtful. “I have seen many men up close in these Wilds. Your movements are different. I am merely studying you. I hope you do not find that offensive,” she said, sounding off-hand. Renya didn’t quite believe her, but kept her opinion to herself. If she truly was connected to Asha’bellanar, she didn’t want to upset her too much.

“Study away. I appreciate that you are one of the first people I have met in these past few days who has not opened the conversation by expressing that I am Dalish,” she said, trying for humor. It worked; Morrigan laughed.

“You will find that I am much more observant than most humans. I believe you can say the same?” she queried as she looked at Renya carefully.

“The Elvhen possess skills unknown to humans,” Renya said evenly. Morrigan nodded approvingly, although Renya wasn’t sure if it was because she agreed about the skills of the elves, or was assessing how Renya would answer with three humans trailing behind them.

“Here we are,” Morrigan said a few minutes later as they approached a small hut in the middle of a swamp. She strode forward to an old woman standing outside the door, staring out over the marshes.

“Mother?” Morrigan called. “We have guests. Some Grey Wardens who…”

The old woman cut her off. “I see we have guests, girl. I have eyes. Hm,” she said staring at each of them in turn. “Not what I expected.”

Renya felt her mouth hanging open and she closed it. That woman… she remembered her from when she was small. She had come to visit her clan once… Asha’bellanar, the Woman of Many Years. And Morrigan had called her “mother.”

“You want us to believe you were expecting us?” Alistair said doubtfully.

“You are not required to do anything, least of all believe,” the old woman replied with a shrug. “Shut one’s eyes tight or open one’s arms wide, either way you are a fool,” she added sternly. Her gaze fell onto Renya, who felt as if the woman were trying to read her thoughts. She silently thanked the creators she was protected by Dirthamen. Her thoughts were safe. She hoped.

“She’s a witch, I tell you. We shouldn’t be talking to her,” Daveth whispered, eyes wide.

“Quiet, Daveth. If she truly is a witch, do you really want to make her angry?” Ser Jory whispered back sharply.

“Smart boy,” the woman said, nodding. “It’s a shame that counts for nothing in the grander story. Believe whatever you will.” She turned her attention back onto Renya. “And what about you, girl? Does your Elvhen mind give you a different view of things? What do you believe?”

“Andaran atish’an, Asha’bellanar,” Renya said respectfully. “What do I believe?” She paused. Her thoughts flew through the past few days, puzzling over why so many shemlen had been so polite to her. “I do not think it matters what I believe. I think some things are just meant to be accepted for what they are.” She hoped Asha’bellanar felt the same way.

“Ah, there is the answer I was hoping for!” she replied with a short laugh. “It is so nice to have an open mind before me, instead of one that has been reduced to mush,” she added, her gaze settling on Alistair. “So much of you is uncertain…” she murmured thoughtfully, once again staring at Renya. “Yet I believe…do I? Why yes, I do!” She laughed again. Even Morrigan looked confused at what her mother had said.

“So, this is the dreaded Witch of the Wilds?” Alistair said with some amusement in his voice. Renya begged him with her eyes to stop talking.

“Witch of the Wilds? Hah!” she laughed again. “Did Morrigan tell you that? She fancies such tales, always has. Ah, how she dances in the moon…” the woman said wistfully.

“Dance in the moon?” Alistair laughed. “Is that anything like the frolicking the Dalish are so well known for?”

Renya felt her face grow hot, a blush spreading to the tips of her ears. Shemlen liked to believe the Dalish danced naked, which Renya was sure was not true. Her embarrassment was mirrored on Morrigan’s face.

“I don’t think they came to hear your wild tales, Mother,” Morrigan said, trying to keep her tone light even though the color was still heavy in her cheeks.

“No, they did not. You came for your treaties, yes?” She looked at them critically. “Before you begin barking at me, you should know that your seals wore off long ago. I have been protecting them.”

“You-oh,” Alistair said, his tone changing mid-sentence. “You protected them?

“And why not?” Asha’bellanar replied, looking innocent. “Take them to your Grey Wardens. Tell them the threat of this Blight is greater than they realize.” She pulled the treaties out of a box next to her and handed them to Renya with a smile.

“Ma serannas, Asha’bellanar. I appreciate your help,” Renya said with a small bow.

“You have what you came for. Now go,” Morrigan said briskly.

“What are you talking about, girl? Where are your manners? You will lead them out of the woods and back to their camp,” the old woman demanded, glaring at Morrigan as if daring her to disobey.

Morrigan matched her glare, but then dropped it. “Yes, Mother,” she intoned obediently. “Come,” she said, walking back into the Wilds, not checking to see if anyone followed her.

***

As they reached the camp that evening, Alistair breathed a sigh of relief and thanked Andraste for their safe return. Renya clenched her jaw, but it was Morrigan who spoke the challenging words Renya wished she knew.

“’Tis interesting that you pray to a prophet who was killed for worshipping your god who turned his back on you not once, but twice,” Morrigan quipped as the camp loomed closer. Alistair turned very red but didn’t comment. Renya couldn’t suppress her grin and glanced at Morrigan, whom she was sure was watching her out of the side of her eye. She decided that she liked the witch, as disagreeable as she could be.

“Here is where I leave you,” the witch said a moment later, stopping abruptly.

Jory and Daveth acted as if they hadn’t heard her and continued walking toward the camp, and Alistair muttered “Thank the Maker,” but he paused when he saw Renya stop as well.  
“Thank you for your help, Morrigan,” she said politely. “I hope our paths will cross again, perhaps under better circumstances.”

“Perhaps it will be as you say,” Morrigan replied, considering the elf. In a flash of white light, she transformed into a raven and flew away, Renya watching her thoughtfully. Alistair looked like he had seen a ghost.

“I’m glad that’s over. Come on, let’s find Duncan.”

It took them less than fifteen minutes to find Duncan, who was standing by the great bonfire in the middle of the camp. He looked up at their approach and smiled. “You have returned,” he said with his deep voice, making Renya feel comfortable again. “I have alerted the mages, and they are preparing. Were you successful?”

“Yes, Hahren,” Renya said as Jory and Daveth nodded.

Duncan smiled. “Good. With the blood you collected, we are ready to begin the Joining.” He took the vials from the three recruits and turned away. Renya heard him pouring the blood into something.

“Was our trial not enough?” Ser Jory asked now. “What else are we to be asked to do?”

“All will be revealed in time, Ser Knight,” Duncan said gravely. “Come.” Without turning to them, he walked away toward an open dais overlooking the canyon below. The three recruits and Alistair followed him silently. Alistair strode up to Duncan to tell him about the apostate mage and her mother; Duncan seemed unconcerned. As they spoke, they passed the kennel, and Renya quietly slipped away to give the flowers to the kennel master.

“Those are exactly right!” he said gratefully. “I’ll make this into the paste right away. He’ll be good as new now. Thank you, ser!” He hurried away.

Renya looked at the dog who was staring at her forlornly. “You will be better soon, falon,” she murmured to him in Dalish. “Find me on the battlefield.” The dog responded by barking weakly and trying to wag his tail. Renya smiled and hurried back to Duncan, who was standing on the dais.

“Renya, there you are,” Duncan said, raising an eyebrow. “I thought I had lost you.”

“Ir abelas, Hahren,” she panted. “I promised to help the kennel master and wanted to deliver something to him when I saw him.”

“Very well. I will gather the remaining items, and then we shall begin,” Duncan rumbled. He nodded to Alistair before walking away.

“All these tests,” grumbled Ser Jory. “Haven’t we proved ourselves worthy enough yet?”

“Are you whining again?” Daveth said wearily. “Maybe it’s tradition. Or _maybe,_ ” he added with some humor, “they’re just trying to annoy you!”

Renya cracked a grin as Daveth looked at her out of the side of his eye. She was looking forward to traveling with him, even if he was a shemlen.

“Why did you want to become a Warden, Ser Jory? You do not seem to like what the job entails,” Renya commented. Jory looked at her seriously.

“There is much honor to be had as a Grey Warden,” he said. “But I have a wife who is with child. If I had known…”

“You left your pregnant wife?” Renya asked incredulously.

“Would you have come if they warned you?” Daveth exploded at the larger man, throwing his arms out in frustration. “Maybe that is why they do not tell of their traditions. The Grey Wardens do what they must, don’t they?”

“They ask us to sacrifice much,” Jory replied stubbornly. But Daveth was just as resolute.

“I would sacrifice much more if it meant this Blight would be ended,” he said angrily. “I stand by the Wardens.”

“Of course you do, what have you to go back to, thief?” Jory demanded angrily.

“Mythal protect me,” Renya muttered, pressing her fingers into her vallaslin.

Thankfully Duncan reappeared at that moment. “And now, at last, the Joining.” He placed a great bowl before them. “During the First Blight, the men who became the first Wardens drank darkspawn blood and mastered the taint. It is from this blood that we draw our strength.”

“We’re going to drink their blood? That is disgusting,” commented Ser Jory in an undertone. He looked terrified. Renya silently agreed, though; the thought of drinking blood was not a pleasant one.

“As the first Grey Wardens did before us, and as we did before you,” Duncan affirmed. “Those who survive the Joining are immune to the taint. We can then use it to sense darkspawn and slay the archdemon.” He paused, looking at the recruits.

“Yes, Hahren,” Renya murmured, keeping her eyes on Duncan.

“Good,” Daveth agreed. “Anything to kill the bastards.”

“We speak only a few words before the ceremony, but they have been spoken since the first. Alistair, if you would?” Duncan dipped a white stone chalice into the bowl and filled it with the thick, dark red blood.

Alistair became uncharacteristically solemn. “Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And, should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day… we will join you.” He sounded sad as he finished.

“Daveth, stop forward,” Duncan said. The short man stepped forward and took the chalice from Duncan’s hands. He took a breath and drank deeply from the cup before returning it to Duncan. He stood still for a moment, then grabbed his throat, gurgling and crying out in pain. Renya watched helplessly as he collapsed to his knees, facing her, but where his brown eyes should have been, there was pure white. It was terrifying. Another moment of tormet, and then Daveth collapsed dead on the ground. Renya stared at him, eyes wide.

“I am sorry, Daveth,” Duncan said solemnly, looking at the fallen man. “Step forward, Jory.”

But Jory had drawn his sword and was backing away. “I have a wife. A… a child,” he said, panic rising in his voice. “Had I known…”

“There is no turning back,” Duncan said inexorably, advancing on the retreating man.

“No, you ask too much!” the knight cried, pointing his sword at Duncan. Duncan drew his own sword, dodged one of Jory’s attacks and, quick as lightning, stabbed Jory in his abdomen, killing him almost instantly.

Renya watched as another one of her fellow recruits fell to the ground dead.

“I am sorry, Jory.” Duncan turned and faced Renya, offering her the chalice. “But the Joining is not complete. Step forward, Renya.”

The elf stepped forward and took the chalice. She had just watched Daveth die after drinking the darkspawn blood, and then saw Duncan kill Jory for wanting to return to his family. Every fiber of her being was telling her to drop the chalice and run back to the Sabrae. Fen’Harel could take Duncan, the Grey Wardens, and this whole Blight.

 _“This is your duty…”_ Hahren Marathari’s voice echoed in her memory. Renya sighed. This was her duty now. And she had promised to follow Duncan.

“Ma nuvenin, Hahren,” she said obediently before taking a deep breath and raising the chalice to her lips. The blood tasted disgusting, and in her mind’s eye she saw the crumpled bodies of Daveth and Jory. She handed the chalice back to Duncan and waited. A searing pain shot through her head and she pressed her hand onto her forehead as the world turned white. The last thought she had was of Tamlen’s encouraging smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Asha'bellanar: Woman of Many Years. Literally "the eternal woman"  
> Dirthamen - Dalish god of secrets and knowledge  
> andaran atish'an - formal Dalish greeting. Literally "I welcome you to my place of peace."  
> ir abelas - I'm sorry  
> Fen'harel - The Dread Wolf, or The Trickster Wolf/God  
> ma nuvenin - it will be as you say/as you wish
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out[AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com)for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	12. No Turning Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The result of Renya's joining, and a secret meeting that's not supposed to be overheard...

_She stood on a tall, dark tower. The sky was red, as if in sunset, but something was wrong. The world was smoking. Suddenly, a roar split through the air and a dragon spiraled into the sky, blowing fire from its mouth and searing what remained of the countryside. People stood around her, but they were frozen, as if statues, and their faces were blurred. People were screaming, but Renya was unable to move as she watched the dragon fly through the sky and destroy the world around her._

***

Renya opened her eyes and blinked a few times, the world coming into focus. Standing above her were two very familiar men.

“It is finished. Welcome,” Duncan said softly. He offered her a hand to help her rise.

“In my Joining only one of us died,” Alistair said sadly. “I’m glad at least you survived, Renya.”

“How do you feel, child?” Duncan asked, looking at her closely.

Renya blinked and shook her head experimentally. “Like I just went through my vallaslin ceremony,” she said, rubbing the tattoos on her forehead. She smiled at the blank looks on the men’s faces. “I have a splitting headache.”

“That’s understandable. Here, drink this,” Alistair said, handing her a vial with something red in it. She looked at it warily. He chuckled. “It’s a potion I grabbed from a mage while you were unconscious. It will help with the pain. No more trials, I promise,” he said, smiling at her.

“Did you have any dreams?” Duncan asked while Renya drank. She nodded, the pain in her head decreasing.

“Yes… I saw… a dragon. A black one. It was huge, and its roar…” she shuddered. Duncan sighed.

“You have seen the archdemon. Let us hope that is not something you will ever have to see in your waking life…”

“I had dreams, too,” Alistair said quietly. “Still do, but you get used to it. It’s not that bad after a while.”

“Reassuring, thank you,” she said thickly, still in pain. The potion was helping, but it was very slow-acting. She forced a smile to show she meant the words kindly.

“Now, I have some final arrangements to make with the king. Alistair, if you would stay with her and help her back to the camp, I would be grateful. I will see you both soon.” And with that, Duncan was gone.

“Are you alright to walk?” Alistair asked kindly when Renya had finished drinking the potion.

Renya took a few steps experimentally and stumbled. Alistair grabbed her arm. “Ma serannas,” she said, holding on to him. She looked at him as if for the first time. “Ma serannas…lethallin.”

He smiled at her indulgently. “While I think I like the sound of the Dalish language, I really have no idea what you’re saying.”

Renya laughed, then groaned as her head throbbed again. “Ma serannas… thank you,” she said, rubbing her forehead and squinting at him. “And lethallin…” She hesitated before looking at him seriously. “Close friend, like a brother.” It was true, in a way. They were both Grey Wardens now… She’d heard a story once that said human soldiers trusted each other like family, and Alistair had been unexpectedly attentive and kind to her… She took a deep breath. She would try trusting this human. This... fellow Grey Warden. She supposed that meant they were part of the same clan now, as odd as that was to think about.

Alistair, meanwhile, looked surprised and touched.

“Really? …Me? Wow… just… wow,” he said. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen anyone smile so widely in her life. It was apparently contagious, and she smiled back as he helped her toward her tent.

“Do you think we could get something to eat first?” she asked. “I am suddenly famished.”

“Welcome to the Grey Wardens,” Alistair said knowingly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

***

Renya was meandering around the camp, finally having convinced Alistair that her headache was gone and that she wouldn’t attack any more humans. In reality, she just wanted some time to think. As she walked toward the king’s tent, she heard Duncan’s voice. Tilting her head to one side, she disappeared into the shadow of a tree and listened.

“Archdemon?” Cailan said to Duncan with raised eyebrows. “Isn’t that why you and the Grey Wardens are here, Duncan?”

Duncan looked taken aback. “Yes… Your Majesty.”

“You cannot rely on the Grey Wardens alone, Cailan,” Loghain said angrily.

“Then what would you have me do? You do not wish to wait for the Orlesian reinforcements, you do not wish to wait for the Orlesian Wardens… What is our other option? Shall we retreat?”

An uncomfortable silence fell. Cailan shook his head.

“And so we must march to battle with the numbers we have. Remind me of the plan again.”

They leaned over a great table with a map of Ostegar on it.

“You will enter here,” Loghain said, pointing. Renya silently shimmied up the tree and tried to see the map, but with the three men bent over it she couldn’t make out where he was pointing. “And then you will light the beacon at the Tower of Ishal, and –”

“Your men will charge from hiding. I remember,” Cailan interrupted. He glanced up at the other two men. “So we must send our best men for this. Your support is critical now, Loghain.” As if deciding something he looked over at Duncan. “We will send Alistair and your new recruit, Renya. They will ensure that the beacon is lit.”

“You put too much trust in these Wardens, Cailan…” Loghain began again.

But the king waved his hand dismissively. “They are most capable, and I think it would be best for them to go, Loghain.” he said. He leveled his gaze onto his father-in-law. “Who would you have me send?”

He waited, but Loghain didn’t offer any other suggestions.

Renya slid back down to the ground, thinking that the conversation must be ending. She didn’t want to be caught. She noticed the human who had believed her to be a servant harassing the nice serving elf she had met and growled a little to herself. Picking up a small stone, she threw it at him, smiling in satisfaction when it hit him in the back, making him gasp in surprise and turn. The momentary pause was enough for Wynne to come over and intervene. The man said something angry as he waved his arms at her, but eventually left. Wynne smiled and nodded at the elven servant before walking away.

“So we will ride tomorrow, then,” Cailan said now, catching Renya’s attention. Heart hammering, she began to sneak away, keeping to the shadows. “Glorious!”

Teryn Loghain nodded and walked away. “Yes, it will be an important battle for all of us, indeed,” he muttered to himself. Renya froze as the large man stomped past her, but he didn’t notice the elf crouching in the bushes. Shaking her head in confusion, she made her way back to her tent, threw herself inside, and fell asleep instantly. Her dreams were very dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked the idea of Renya forcing herself to accept Alistair. While it's partly out of respect for Duncan, it's also partly due to her feeling safer having a clan to belong to. I hope that came across. Sadly, I don't have a beta reader, and all of this makes sense to me when I read it ;)
> 
> No new Dalish words this time, and Renya explains them to Alistair, anyway, but if I missed any and you're wondering what they mean, send me a message and I'll update these notes with translations!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out[AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com)for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	13. The First Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few more details, and then Renya and Alistair are off to battle the tides of evil alongside the Grey Wardens and King Cailan's army. Or are they?

“No. _Grey Warden_ armor,” she insisted again, grabbing the ring on her finger impulsively. “You know, blue with the silver griffin. Even if it was for a small human, that would be fine.”

The quartermaster looked at her doubtfully. “Maybe if you were a male elf,” he said thoughtfully. Renya sighed.

“I am not the smallest one here, do not pretend I am,” she said, trying to keep her temper under control. It was true that she was much shorter than all the human men, and a little shorter than most of the women, but she was as tall as at least a few of the women she had come across, and was even taller than a few.

“Let me see what I can find,” the quartermaster sighed.

“Finding everything alright?” Alistair came up behind her as the merchant walked away.

“No,” Renya said, frustrated. “They apparently do not make Grey Warden armor in elf sizes.”

But Alistair was looking at her quizzically. “You’re actually pretty tall for an elf, aren’t you?”

Renya shrugged. “I am about as tall as the other Dalish women I know,” she said. She gestured to the camp. “To judge from what I have seen here, we Dalish seem to be only a little shorter than the average human female.”

The quartermaster clomped back over to where the two Wardens were standing, carrying a set of dusty blue armor. “My last set of small armor,” he said, laying it out in front of her. He threw a canvas pack on top of the breastplate lying on the table in between them. “And the dress uniform to go with it, if the occasion ever arises.”

“Ooo, it’s nice. It will look good with your eyes and your hair,” Alistair said, then realized what that sounded like. He turned red as Renya and the quartermaster looked at him with matching expressions. “I mean, that is…”

Renya paid the merchant and collected her purchases before starting to walk back to her tent to change. Alistair followed, carrying some of the armor pieces and still babbling out an apology. The elf finally turned to him, face full of amusement.

“Ma serannas, Alistair. Thank you. Perhaps we can bake cookies together later, too,” she said, effectively stopping the awkwardness flowing out of Alistair.

“Yes, I mean, no. Well… I like cookies,” he finished lamely. Renya laughed. “I… it’s just… you…”

Renya shook her head. “You just have an eye for fashion, Alistair…” she teased as he mumbled himself into silence, rubbing the back of his neck.

They reached her tent and she tossed the parcels she was carrying inside, and took the remaining pieces from Alistair. She looked at him awkwardly. “I will be right out,” she said pointedly.

“What? Oh! Yes, erm, well. I’ll be… I’ll be over there,” he said, and marched away a few feet, looking out over the camp.

She entered her tent and shut the flaps as tightly as she could. Sitting down on her bedroll, the elf began to examine the clothing she had just purchased. The armor was dusty, but well oiled and seemed like it would fit well. The other uniform the merchant had called a dress uniform was undoubtedly fine, consisting of a blue and white silk tunic, with armor on the left arm and insignia on the shoulder, dark pants, and a blue jacket with silver buttons and long tails, with a brown belt to bind it all together and display your sword, if you had one. The merchant had even included a few tunics and pants like the Dalish men wore, and Renya was grateful. She had brought her set of clothes, but it would be nice to not have to worry about a replacement if she needed one.

Dusting off the armor, she figured out how to put it on piece by piece, first putting on a very padded-looking shirt, followed by a sleeveless leather piece, both the traditional blue and white of the Wardens, and thick brown leather pants. One she had figured out how to fasten the armor pieces together, she fit her belt over it all and pulled on her leather boots and gloves. Everything fit surprisingly well.

She was also glad to see that she was still able to sport her swords and her bow with little incident. Her thoughts briefly strayed to a mirror again. She packed up her other armor and clothing into her pack, next to the treaties, and slung the bag on, as well. If the Wardens had to leave quickly, she would be ready.

Renya emerged from her tent and went to find Alistair. She didn’t have far to search. He marched up to her, looking her up and down and nodding in approval. “I think that fits well,” he said. “I think you might just scare the darkspawn away with your looks.”

“Oh, ha ha,” Renya replied, good-naturedly.

“Renya, Alistair, I’m glad I found you,” Duncan said, coming up to them. “Ah, Renya,” he added, looking her over. “I’m glad to see you have found armor. There will now be three of us wearing this armor on the field, more than Ferelden has seen in a long time…although other Grey Wardens are in attendance here, of course,” he said, an odd emotion passing over his face. He looked at the griffin on their armor sadly. “There are few who would even recognize the mark of the order anymore,” he sighed. But then he brightened again. “It suits you. Both of you,” he said, sweeping his gaze across the two Wardens fondly.

“Thank you, Duncan” Alistair said seriously.

“Ma serannas, Hahren,” Renya said at the same time.

“Do we have our orders for this evening?” Alistair asked, changing the subject. Renya stood quietly, trying to not look guilty. Duncan nodded.

“Yes. You and Renya are to secure the Tower of Ishal and light the beacon to signal Loghain’s armies to advance, and…” Duncan began. But Alistair cut him off angrily.

“The Tower? Are we to not see the battle?”

“No, you have a very important job. Without the beacon, there is no way for us to signal Loghain, and…”

“But we are here to assist _you_ , Duncan!” Alistair protested.

“I’m sorry, Alistair,” Duncan said now, shaking his head. “But these orders come from the king himself. He was quite emphatic, in fact, that you be the one to light the tower. I tried to question his decision, but he was quite determined.”

Renya thought of the king’s jovial manner when they had met. It didn’t match with this new, demanding king, but she couldn’t ask about that now. When the battle was over, she would discuss it with Duncan.

“Ma nuvenin. It will be as you say, Hahren,” Renya said, hoping Alistair would catch the hint. Alistair, however, was still angry.

“But we were to- ouch!”

Renya had stomped on his foot. She doubted it had hurt him that much through his boot, but it at least stopped him from arguing. He sighed.

“Yes, Duncan. Of course. Renya and I will secure the Tower and light the beacon,” he said, nodding to the older Warden. Duncan looked relieved.

“Good. I am glad that is settled. One final word from me,” he looked at them seriously. “No matter what happens, take care of each other.”

“But, Hahren…”

“Take care of each other,” Duncan said again, more forcefully. He laid a hand on each of their shoulders. Even through the metal, Renya was able to feel the firmness and the warmth of his touch. “You are Grey Wardens, and you two are the only ones who will understand what the other one is experiencing. Take care of each other,” he said again, very softly.

“Yes, Hahren.”

“Of course, Duncan.”

“Good.”

“May the Maker watch over us,” Alistair said softly.

“May He watch over us all,” Duncan replied before walking away. Renya hovered for a moment, before chasing after the other Warden. Something was wrong, and she had to talk to him in case things became worse.

“Duncan!” she called. The Warden turned and looked at her, surprised.

“Renya, what is it-?”

“Duncan, I…” Suddenly she felt stupid. But she barreled on anyway. “I… I never knew my father,” she began. Duncan looked as if he were about to apologize, but she cut him off. “After meeting you, I… I hoped that he would have been someone like you. You guided me when I was very lost, and I… thank you, Duncan. Ma serannas, Hahren. More than I could ever tell you,” she said. Andruil’s bow, she was babbling like Alistair now. But Duncan looked touched.

“Thank you, Renya,” he said, his eyes crinkling again as he smiled. “That means more to me than I think you know. The best of luck tonight, Renya. Maker’s…Your creators’ blessings on you.”

“And on you as well, Hahren.”

A horn call pulled both of them from their thoughts. With a final nod, Duncan strode off. She watched him go, hoping it would not be the last time she saw the man. Sighing, she returned to Alistair, who had politely stayed where he was during the conversation.

“What was that all about?” he asked immediately.

“Nothing,” Renya said. “Duncan was the first human who was ever nice to me, and I wanted to thank him before… before I forgot.”

Another horn sounded and the camp began to empty. “I guess we should get ready,” Alistair said. Renya nodded, beginning to feel sick.

***

The first part of their task was quite boring. Alistair and Renya found themselves sitting in a tent hidden amongst the trees, waiting for a horn signal to run up the tower. It had been determined that to keep them in the Tower of Ishal would complicate the campaign, as sending them a message would be much more difficult. So they sat in the cramped little tent, listening to the horrific sounds of the battle going on in the clearing a little ways from them. As if those sounds were not bad enough, sometime during the battle it had started thunderstorming.

To distract himself, Alistair was trying to study Renya’s tattoos without her noticing. So far it seemed to be working, and he realized with a jolt he had been staring at her forehead for some time while she sat looking down at her knees. Every so often her ears twitched as if catching a faint sound.

“Enjoying the view, Alistair?” she said, raising her head to look at him. Alistair blushed, but she smiled to show she wasn’t angry.

“I… I am admiring your tattoos, Renya. I’ve never seen anything like them. Is there a meaning behind the patterns?” he asked.

“They are not tattoos,” she said shortly. Alistair stiffened a little, but Renya looked more thoughtful than upset. “They are called vallaslin, which I suppose translates into blood tattoo, but it is not a frivolous marking.” She looked straight ahead, unseeing of the canvas in front of her. “When a Dalish youth has seventeen years, they devote themselves to one of the creator gods who will guide them.” She paused, wondering how much she should tell.

“For some reason,” she began again, “two creator gods revealed themselves to me, so I devoted myself to both. Dirthamen first,” she said, stroking the vallaslin high on her forehead, “the Keeper of Secrets, to remind me to protect my thoughts and think before I act.” She smiled at him. “It is something I still must remind myself to do.” She rubbed the vallaslin that started above her eyebrows and ran down the length of her nose. “Ghilan’nain next. The Mother of the Halla, she is the goddess of navigation, to remind me to always point my eyes where I wish to go.”

“That’s amazing. And they look nice, too,” Alistair said.

Renya smiled. “Thank you, lethallin. They have been very helpful to me recently, and I am sure I will be glad for their presence in the future, as well.”

Alistair looked thoughtful, wondering if she was talking about the vallaslin or her gods to whom she had devoted herself.

“Mythal protect us, was that the signal?” Renya said, her ears strained as she listened. Alistair cupped a hand over his ear. They both listened for a few seconds more, before looking at each other and nodding. Clambering out of the tent, it took a moment to orient themselves in the dark. A crack of lightning lit up the sky.

“That way,” Alistair called, pointing at the tower. He took off, Renya on his heels. They made their way across the bridge, dodging incoming ballistae shots and carefully making their way around the holes that had been made in the bridge. They finally made it to the Tower of Ishal. A mage came running up to them.

“The Tower has fallen!” he cried. “Darkspawn rose up inside, I don’t know where they came from, but everyone inside is dead!”

“You’re got to be kidding me,” Alistair groaned, looking at Renya. “We need to get up that tower!” Alistair bellowed at the mage over a crack of thunder.

“Maker preserve you!” cried the mage. “I will come with you and help.”

They rushed the doors, Alistair yelling as he pushed through, Renya darting in low and looking around in the darkness. The mage came behind, his staff held high. He closed the door behind them, muffling the sound of the storm outside. It was deathly quiet in the large foyer they had entered. Renya shook her head; it was as if there was a song playing in her mind, somehow above her. It wasn’t particularly pleasant. Alistair looked at her.

“Darkspawn,” he said. “That’s how we sense them.” They continued on carefully, on alert for any movement, and made it halfway up to the third floor before a horrendous screech filled their ears. Suddenly they were surrounded by darkspawn. Renya already had her swords at the ready, and went to work, keeping half an eye on Alistair, who was pummeling the creatures with his shield before slashing at them with his sword. The mage was… doing something, Renya thought, and it seemed to be helping. Darkspawn that neither she nor Alistair had touched appeared to be dying.

Soon the room was quiet again. “Let’s keep going,” Renya said, trying not to think too hard about what could possibly be happening on the battlefield below during their delay.

They fought their way up to the highest floor. “There’s the beacon!” shouted Alistair in the middle of one such fight, skewering a darkspawn before kicking it into its companions.

“I see it!” Renya called back, slicing off the head of the darkspawn she was fighting. She made a dash toward the beacon when the room started to shake, grabbing everyone’s attention.

“Ogre!” cried the mage, running for cover. The monster took another step, rattling the floor, and reached out toward the mage, who shot a spell at it. Renya charged toward the monster, but was too late. Another darkspawn had run up behind the mage and stabbed him, twisting the blade for good measure. Renya skidded to a stop, horrified, before shaking her head and springing back into action. Alistair bellowed as loud as he could, rapping his sword against his shield, trying to get the ogre’s attention on him to give Renya an opening. For a moment it worked and the beast lumbered toward Alistair, who, with another shout, swung his sword as hard as he could at the monster. Renya crouched, poised, and waited for the beast to lower its arm, then grabbed on and swung herself onto its back.

“For the Grey Wardens!” she heard Alistair bellow. She gripped the monster with one hand as it tried to fling her off and raised her sword with the other.

“For Duncan,” she said angrily, driving the sword into the back of the ogre’s neck. The thing screamed, shattering what remained of the tower’s windows, and made a grab for Renya, who ducked and avoided the clumsy swing. Holding on to the sword buried deep in the ogre’s neck, Renya drew her short sword with her left hand. With her anger mounting, she raised it high.

“For my family I was taken from!” she said, a little louder, burying the other sword next to its brother. The monster roared, violently shaking its head. She heard a crash, and dimly registered that Alistair had been thrown against the wall in a heap. But her anger, pent up from the last two weeks, had begun spilling out of her, and she couldn’t stop it.

“For Tamlen!” she shrieked, drawing the blades away from each other, splitting open the skin. The ogre hollered one final time and stumbled forward. “Ma halem,” she spat, pulling the blades out of the creature. The wild swing of his hand caught Renya this time, and she too went flying, crashing into something metallic that she realized a little too late was Alistair, who had just stood up.

“Alistair…?”

“Renya… Renya move!” Alistair cried with alarm. He grabbed her and rolled out of the way, just as the ogre came crashing down where they had lain.

Silence filled the room, and the two Wardens rose shakily, looking around the room. Renya stared at the ogre, the back of its neck split open.

“Are you alright?” Alistair asked her with some concern, the battle forgotten for the moment.

Renya frowned in thought. “Yes. I think so,” she said. Then, the reality of the situation came back to her. “And now I am not alright anymore. Do you have a way to light the beacon?”  
Between the two of them they managed to get the fire started, and soon the light was shining brightly. They ran to a broken down wall to see if they could glimpse how the battle was going.

“Is it me, or should there be more humans on the field than there are?” Renya asked.

“What?” Alistair said, searching the ground for a sign of Duncan or Cailan.

A crash caught their attention, and they turned in time to see a horde of darkspawn upon them. Renya yelled as arrows struck her, piercing her as they buried in the weak spots in her armor. She had barely grabbed the hilt of her sword when she felt something heavy connect with the side of her head and the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy! Made it through the battle! Well... sort of...
> 
> Translations:  
> ma serannas - thank you  
> ma halam - you are finished
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	14. Unexpected Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renya and Alistair receive a gentle push from an unexpected benefactor.

_“I’m proud of you, da’len,” Ashalle whispered to her, kissing her forehead. She was back at the Dalish camp, and her adoptive mother was fussing over her. Merrill came over and sat down next to her, leaning against her and looping their arms together._

_“If anyone can stop the Blight single-handedly, it’s you,” she said fondly._

_Renya, however, wasn’t so sure and tried to say so, but her mouth didn’t seem to be working. She was having trouble moving, as well, as if her whole body were in thick mud._

_“Ah, da’len,” the hahren said, coming up and standing in front of her. “You will do your people proud.”_

_Renya shook her head, each movement coming slowly. Why couldn’t they see she didn’t want this? She just wanted to stay with them. She was happy here._

_“But you can’t stay, lethallan,” said a familiar voice. Tamlen sat down on her other side and looked at her seriously. “You are with the Grey Wardens now.”_

_She wanted to talk to him, apologize for not being able to save him, ask him if he was mad she was friends with a shemlen. She wanted to tell him that Duncan had told her that she was a good archer, could he believe that? But she was still unable to move her mouth. Instead, tears began to roll down her cheeks, unnoticed by her companions._

_“Now, da’len, it is time for you to go,” the hahren said. Renya tried to shake her head, but it was getting harder and harder to move. Tears flowed down her face more freely._

_“You must, da’len,” she said. Renya looked away, looking into the faces of Merrill, who was looking at her sadly, Ashalle, who looked both worried and proud, and finally Tamlen, who smiled encouragingly. The hahren continued talking. “You must come with me. When I leave here, I hope you will follow. We could use people like you,” the hahren said, her voice changing._

_Renya looked back toward her in confusion. The hahren had morphed into Duncan, his eyes crinkling into a smile, his deep voice soothing. “There is much to do when we arrive,” he said, rising and offering her his hand. She started to reach out when his hand began to wither and shrink away from her. Renya couldn’t pull her hand away; it was stuck in the extended position it was in. In horror, she watched as Duncan morphed into a black dragon and her companions melted away into the disfigured forms of darkspawn. The dragon looked at her with its cold eyes and opened its mouth with a roar. Its mouth opened wider and wider until Renya was swallowed up by the darkness._

***

Renya sat up with a strangled scream. She looked around her surroundings wildly, expecting to be surrounded by darkspawn. Instead, she found herself in what appeared to be a hut.

“Ah, you are awake,” said a somewhat familiar voice. “’Tis good to see you made it through the night. Your annoying friend will be most pleased.”

The elf looked toward the voice coming from somewhere near her feet. Morrigan sat in a chair, looking at her carefully.

“Morrigan? Where… where am I?”

“You are currently lying in Mother’s bed, healing from your wounds, of which you had many,” Morrigan said conversationally.

“You… you healed me? Ma serannas, thank you, Morrigan…”

The witch held up a hand to quiet her. “’Twas not I, but mostly Mother’s magic that healed you, though you are most welcome,” she said, looking pleased.

“Please, Morrigan, what happened?”

Morrigan made a face. “It seems the king’s reinforcements fled the field. The army was overrun and massacred. You were betrayed,” she said slowly, as if she, too, felt sorrow at the news.

“…and the Grey Wardens?” Renya wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

“You and your tall, annoying friend are the only ones who remain of that order,” Morrigan replied softly. A silence fell between them. Renya felt like she was either going to be sick or pass out.

“How did we escape from the tower?” she asked, trying to keep herself from doing either.

“Mother changed into a great bird and plucked you from the room,” Morrigan said pleasantly. “Believe that if you will. But here you are.”

Renya blinked in disbelief.

“Come,” Morrigan said suddenly. “Mother will want to speak with you, and your friend has become most irritating with his incessant inquiries as to your health. Your armor and weapons are in that chest over there-” She pointed. “So when you are ready, meet us outside. And please do hurry. I may wind up turning someone into a toad after all…” she added with a brief raise of her eyebrow.

“Ma serannas, Morrigan. Truly.”

“I… you are welcome,” Morrigan said somewhat stiffly. She rose and smartly walked out of the hut. Renya scuttled off the bed and opened the chest, relief spreading over her when she saw the Grey Warden armor unharmed. She wondered if Morrigan or Asha’bellanar had fixed it for her. She put the armor back on and retrieved her weapons. Amazingly, her pack had made the journey with her, and she slung it over her shoulders as well. This was a blow for their side; they still had the treaties, although she had no idea what to do with them.

She exited the hut and stood blinking in the sun, waiting for her eyes to adjust. She heard a man’s voice gasp.

“Renya! You’re okay!” Alistair said with relief. “Thank the Maker. I thought I was going to lose you, too.”

The elf smiled at her friend. “Yes, I am well. I am glad to see you made it through, too, lethallin, although I do not think your Maker had anything to do with this so much as…” she nodded toward the old woman who had padded up to them. Turning, she addressed her now.

“Ma serannas, Asha’bellanar. I am grateful for your cure, and for the return of my armor in good working order,” she said, bowing. “I owe you a great debt.”

The old woman smiled slightly. “Both were difficult tasks, child. I’m not sure which one was in worse shape!” And she laughed.

“So… this is… Flemeth,” Alistair said carefully, indicating the old woman. “Erm, you know,” Alistair mumbled uncomfortably. “The Flemeth, the one from the tales.”

“Is that what you shem- humans call her?” Renya said, smiling at Alistair’s shock. “I have been calling her by her Dalish name this whole time.”

“I’m right here and can hear you both,” Flemeth said. “Do not talk about me as if I am not beside you. Now,” she added. “What is it you are going to do with no army and no Grey Wardens, and a Blight well on its way to destroying Ferelden?”

“I… have no idea,” Alistair said. “We can hardly stop a Blight with just the two of us. We would need a huge army.”

“Won’t the Wardens from Orlais help us?” Renya asked. She had heard Cailan talking about them. Alistair sighed.

“Perhaps, but it would take too long for them to arrive. We could be overrun by then.”

“What about the treaties?” Flemeth suggested innocently. Renya glanced at her, then a small smile crept onto her face, soon matching the one the old woman wore.

“We don’t have them anymore,” Alistair was saying. “We left them in the camp. And what are you smiling about?” he demanded crankily.

Renya flipped her pack off her back. “Asha’bellanar was kind enough to transport my pack as well. We still have the treaties, Alistair. But what do they do?”

“They compel the armies of mages, dwarves, and elves to fight alongside the Grey Wardens in the event of a Blight,” he said excitedly, looking down at the sealed scrolls tucked safely away in Renya’s bag.

“We would definitely have a chance at defeating the Blight with elves, dwarves, and mages all fighting alongside each other,” Renya agreed, beginning to match his excitement. Maybe this wasn’t so hopeless after all. She wondered when she had adopted this cause as her own.

 _When you drank the darkspawn blood. This is your duty, now._ She sighed, suddenly homesick.

“And,” Alistair added, gesticulating in his enthusiasm and unaware of how surprised Renya was looking. “We could go to Redcliffe. I know the arl there, Arl Eamon, as that’s where I grew up. He is well respected by his people and the people of Ferelden, and with Cailan dead he is the man who could bring the nobles to our cause, as well.”  
“Elves, dwarves, mages, and this Arl Eamon,” Flemeth said. “Why, that sounds like an army to me.”

“Could we really do this?” Alistair asked, his eyes bright with possibilities. “Could we really unite Ferelden against the Blight?”

“Well, you’re certainly not going to do it standing in front of my house!” Flemeth exclaimed. “Before you go, however,” she added, looking at Renya. “There is something of your father’s in that chest over there.” She nodded toward it and watched Renya closely as she opened the lid. She stared at the contents in the box before carefully reaching in and pulling out a delicate amulet.

“He was given that when he was the Keeper’s first, before he became Keeper himself,” Flemeth said. “I knew him well. Your Keeper Marathari asked me to hold this for you until you were old enough to understand. Although what you were to understand, I am not sure,” she added, but the elf wasn’t listening.

Renya was staring at the purple amulet. It was the only thing she had ever seen that belonged to one of her parents. “Ma serannas, Asha’bellanar,” she said quietly. She quickly put the amulet on and tucked it underneath her armor. It lay right above her heart; she smiled. “Ma serannas,” she said again, nodding at the old woman. “I am again indebted to you.”

Alistair was watching her, too, looking very introspective. “It’s nice to have something to remember your parents by,” he said sadly.

“But it’s interesting,” Flemeth said thoughtfully. “You have stood before me twice, called me by my Elvhen-given name, and yet you do not appear frightened…” She narrowed her eyes as she studied Renya.

Renya looked up at her. “Should I fear you, Asha’bellanar?”

“That is not for me to answer, child,” Flemeth said cryptically. “But other elves I have met… well let’s just say that the knee of the People still bends too easily. But you…” She stopped talking, staring at the elf hard.

Renya stayed silent, letting the old woman study her.

“You, dear, you said you owed me a favor,” Flemeth commented now, very slyly, watching Morrigan come out of the hut and walk toward them.

“Shall we be having two guests for dinner, Mother, or none?” she asked.

“None, you silly girl. You will be going with them.”

“Such a shame – what?” Morrigan squawked.

“You heard me, girl, grab your things. You have been wanting to leave these Wilds for a long time,” Flemeth said, brandishing her hand toward the hut again.

“Am I not to have a say in this?”

“No,” said Flemeth.

“…We would be happy to have Morrigan with us,” Renya began.

“We would?” hissed Alistair, but the elf ignored him.

“However, we would not want to take her against her will,” Renya finished, looking at Morrigan meaningfully. It was the truth.

“Nonsense,” replied Flemeth with a wave of her hand. “You need her, and it would do her good. I only ask that you return her to me in good condition. She is very dear to me,” she finished. Renya noticed Morrigan’s scoff and eyeroll but didn’t comment.

“Allow me to get my things, then,” Morrigan huffed. She stomped away and came back moments later, bearing a mage’s staff and a small pack. “Take care, Mother. Do not forget the stew on the stove. I would hate to come back and find the house burned down,” she said.

“Of course,” Flemeth said, crossing her arms. “It is more likely that you will return to find me dead and the Wilds overrun by darkspawn,” she spat.

“I only meant…” Morrigan began, looking almost sad. Flemeth was her mother, Renya reasoned, as odd as she could be.

“I know, child. Now go.”

Morrigan sighed and turned toward her new companions. “I would suggest going to a village a little north of here to gather supplies,” she said. Her gaze settled on Renya. “Or, if you prefer, I will keep my opinions to myself and be a silent companion.”

“I want you to speak your mind, Morrigan,” Renya said with a smile.

“You’ll regret you said that, dearie!” Flemeth cackled behind them. Renya sighed.

They bid the old woman goodbye and set off. “North, you said?” Renya said to Morrigan.

“Indeed. If we travel quickly, we should be there in two days.”

Renya nodded, glancing at Alistair, who had been oddly quiet through all of this. “Two days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Translations:  
> Asha'bellanar - Woman of Many Years; literally the "eternal woman"
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	15. Pretty As a Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An arrival of the Wardens, and a departure of an unexpected character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay between chapters, guys. Life got a little crazy there for a bit. But here we go!

The second day dawned early, and the three companions rose and packed up their camp without a word to each other, each pursuing his or her own thoughts. They had walked down the road only a few miles when a low growl caught Renya’s attention. She stopped, holding up a hand. The humans looked at her curiously.

“I hear something,” she whispered. “It is big… and growling.”

The humans began looking around for the source of the sound that they could not yet hear, and Renya stood poised, listening. Suddenly, hurried footsteps began approaching them, and Renya pulled her blades out in time to see a large creature come charging out of the forest at them. It skidded to a stop in front of Renya and barked happily.

“A…dog?” Renya asked stupidly.

“’Tis indeed a dog,” Morrigan confirmed with sarcasm. “But why is it here?”

The mabari hound barked at Renya again and ran around in a circle. Something about its eyes seemed familiar to Renya… then she remembered.

“Are you the mabari I helped back at Ostegar?” she asked incredulously. The dog barked and wagged its stump of a tail, wiggling its whole back end. “And…oh.” Renya sighed. “Your owner must have died.” The dog looked at her expectantly. “And… you want to be my dog now?”

“You are talking… to an animal, I hope you realize,” Morrigan commented.

“Mabari are incredibly smart,” Alistair offered. “Their owners say they are smart enough to understand speech, and wise enough to stay silent.”

The dog barked happily again.

“Alright, you can come with us,” Renya said with a smile. She had heard some of the soldiers talking about their hounds, and if everything they said was true, he would be a valuable companion.

“Are we really taking a dog with us? No vote, no other opinions?” Morrigan asked. Renya smiled at her slightly.

“Please, Mamae, can I keep him? I promise to walk him and feed him and keep him out of the halla pen,” she said a little humor. Alistair laughed. The elf turned her attention back to the dog. “So what should we call you?”

“How about… wait for it… Barkspawn!” Alistair cried with a smile, looking at the two women for their reactions. His smile faded at the varying degrees of disbelief on their faces. “Or not. It was just a suggestion.” The dog huffed and turned away from him. “Even you? Gee, tough crowd…”

“What about Elgar?” Renya asked. “It means ‘spirit’ in the common tongue, and you must have a lot of that to have survived what you did.” The dog barked happily.

“Are we truly going to bring this mangy dog around with us?” Morrigan asked grumpily.

“He’s not mangy,” Alistair replied with a doting voice. “Are you, boy?”

Elgar barked deeply, wagging his tail.

“That’s settled, then,” Renya said happily.

“Let us be off,” Morrigan said loudly. “Lest we begin gathering dust here.”

***

As they walked, the conversation turned to religion. After listening to Morrigan and Alistair debate the truthfulness of the Chantry for a while, Renya’s head was throbbing.

“But you were a templar, weren’t you?” Renya said. “Hahren Paivel, the storyteller of my clan, once said that templar use lyrium to enhance their power. But lyrium is not to be ingested in large quantities. How are you…?

“Well I was almost a templar. I never really liked what they stood for, I only liked the training… and it got me a good education, as well. Like I said, most of the time I was cleaning pots and being told I was shaming the good name of the templar order.”

“Templar don’t have a good name where I come from. I am sure your offenses would pale in comparison to what I have witnessed,” Renya said darkly.

Alistair was quiet for a moment. “I am sure,” he responded softly. “But to answer your question, only fully fledged templar use lyrium, and I was most certainly not one of those. And the Chantry controls the lyrium that the templar get, so…” he trailed off.

“So the Shantri uses dangerous substances to control people who are supposed to love serving them to begin with,” Renya concluded flatly. “My opinion of your Maker and his supposedly holy people just rose considerably…” She heard Morrigan chuckle.

“I… well… it’s unfortunate. I never said I liked that part,” Alistair said defensively. “I was so happy when Duncan… when he conscripted me.”

Renya took a deep breath and nodded.

“Ir abelas, ma vhenan,” she said quietly. “I am sorry for your loss. You knew him longer than I did.”

“I did. But he liked you quite a bit, you know…” Alistair commented. Renya smiled.

“I am about to vomit,” Morrigan mentioned to no one in particular.

The elf laughed. “Look,” she said, pointing ahead to the village coming in to view. “There it is.”

“Ah, Lothering,” Alistair said. “Pretty as a picture. Shall we?”

***

Sister Leliana sighed. She had been in Lothering for a little over two years, but the past two months had been… tragic was one description that came to mind. A complete disaster would be another. Refugees swarmed the small, sleepy little town, and the Chantry was overflowing with people. Bandits had taken up residence on the Imperial Highway and were robbing travelers blind. Rumors of the massacre at Ostegar had reached Lothering’s ears, and now rumors were spreading that the darkspawn were coming here next. The town was preparing a mass exodus of its people to a neighboring bannorn, and the Chantry, through all of this, was trying to maintain some semblance of order.

She had been tending to the refugees all morning, and decided to take her lunch in Dane’s Refuge, the little tavern a few buildings away from the Chantry doors.

“G’afternoon, Sister,” people said to her as she passed.

“Good afternoon,” she said kindly. “I hope you are well?” It took her about ten minutes to work her way through the crowds, speaking to many of them, before finding a seat. She decided to indulge with a half-pint of watered-down ale when a woman with black hair and tan skin plopped down onto the chair across from her.

“Hawke,” Sister Leliana said brightly. “How are you?”

Marion Hawke sighed and put her drink down on the table gently.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“We’re leaving, Sister Leliana,” Hawke said, staring at the table. “We’re going to Kirkwall, where my mother is from… Getting out of this town while we can.”

“Oh, Hawke…” Sister Leliana was all sympathy, and she reached out and laid her hand on top of the other woman’s. The dark-haired women withdrew at the touch, and Leliana sighed. Hawke and her brother had served at Ostegar and had barely escaped with their lives, and poor Bethany was always afraid the templar would discover her “secret” and drag her off to the Circle Tower with the other mages; their family didn’t deserve this.

“I’m going to miss you, you know,” Hawke said, her tone changing. “Lothering has been a brighter place since you’ve shown up.” She took a sip of her drink and set it down thoughtfully. “You could just come with us, you know.”

The chantry sister laughed pleasantly. “I would like that. But I must stay here with the Chantry…” Her mind went to her dream again. It seemed the darkness had fallen, and she was standing on the peak. How would she jump? Would someone be there to catch her? And the rose from the dead bush… She sighed. Maybe she should go with the Hawkes; perhaps staying with them…?

“You know my mother loves you. Bethany adores you. So does Carver…” Hawke rolled her eyes. “And I… well I’d know you were safe,” she finished stiffly.

Leliana considered her friend thoughtfully. Her jaw was set, and her black hair was contained in a tight ponytail on the back of her head. The light brown eyes were downcast as she took another drink. No, Leliana thought firmly. She had to stay in Lothering. Running away from the town was not what that dream meant.

“I wish I could, Hawke,” Leliana said gently. She watched as Hawke appeared to droop in her chair. “While I am sad to see you go, I understand. You and your family will do well no matter where you end up. I have faith.”

“At least one of us does,” the other women mumbled. She glanced out the door and sighed. Downing the rest of her drink, she rose. “Don’t forget me, Leliana, okay?”

“How could I?” the redhead replied with a smile.

Impulsively, Hawke leaned forward and brushed her lips against Leliana’s. Leliana remained still, shocked by the display of affection. For two years, she had allowed herself to be tormented by the chaste recruits, forbidden to touch – a fitting penance for her sins. Her stomach clenched unpleasantly during the brief moment her mind entertained the idea of leaning into the kiss. No, it was not worth it. _She_ was not worth it.

Hawke saw her face and apologized. “Just… just take care of yourself, Leliana,” she said, not looking at her.

“You too, Hawke.” When Leliana looked up again the woman had gone. Sighing, Leliana returned to her drink. She finished quickly, paid her bill, and left, determined to return to the Chantry and pray. It would help ease her mind, she knew it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always figured that Leliana knew the Hawkes a little better than she let on. After all, if Bethany knew her well enough to remember she had the best stories, then they must have spent some time together. And, hey, maybe Hawke had a thing for the lay sister, considering the female romance options in Dragon Age II were a not-so-innocent-yet-sweet elf and a not-so-innocent-yet-kindhearted pirate. If Hawke likes the ladies, maybe she likes them with a naughty streak... Anyway, just a little lull before the storm...
> 
> Translations:  
> Ir abelas, ma vhenan - literally, "I'm sorry, my heart," but usually meant as "I'm sorry for your loss."
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	16. The Maker's Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wardens receive a less-than-warm welcome to Lothering, and Renya meets a surprisingly open-minded Chantry sister.

“Stop me if you’ve heard this one… So an elf, an arl, and a mage all walk into a bar…” Alistair said. Renya inwardly sighed but prepared herself for another one of Alistair’s terrible jokes.

“Really, Alistair. We now have a dog and you are still the dumbest one in the party,” came Morrigan’s interjection.

“Hey! That’s not very nice.”

"Oh, I’m sorry,” Morrigan retorted with mock politeness. “Have I upset you?”

“Yes, you’ve hurt my manly feelings,” Alistair said dryly. “All one of them.”

“Well remind me to write it an apology note –”

“Lethallin?” Renya interrupted, looking ahead. “I think we are in trouble.”

“Bandits,” Alistair said quietly.

“’Tis no problem for us, is it?” Morrigan asked, removing her staff from her back.

“Hello stranger!” one of the men called. “Welcome to Lothering. Unfortunately, it seems that you have reached the toll collection. We’re here ensuring the maintenance of the Tevinter Highway that you are on,” he said slickly. His voice made Renya’s hair stand on end.

“Uh, boss?” one of the other men plucked at the leader’s elbow. “These don’t look like them other refugees. You said these would be easy pickings, and these ones is armed. And, well…” he trailed off, noting the matching armor Renya and Alistair wore.

“Nonsense, everyone must pay the toll,” the first main continued jovially.

“I suggest you let us pass,” Renya growled. The man looked shocked.

“I thought it was bad enough to see a knife-ear in armor, and now I find that she is the leader of this group?”

“Oh no,” Alistair muttered.

“I _suggest,_ ” the elf said again with more force, her hand gripping her sword so tightly her knuckles were white, “that you let us pass. We have no quarrel with you. As your friend says, we are not your typical refugees.”

“Oh?” the man said dangerously. “And who are you, then, exactly?”

“Grey Wardens.”

“Grey… _Wardens!_ ” the man shouted happily. “D’you hear that, boys? Grey Wardens! Oh, Loghain has offered plenty of coin for your heads, he has. Boys, let’s show these Grey Wardens that they can’t betray our king!”

“Betray our king?” Alistair echoed, watching the men advance and drawing his sword while readying his shield. “That’s what people are being told?”

The fight was short and easy. Soon more than half the bandits lay dead, with the ringleader held in a chokehold by Renya, her short sword pressed against his throat, and one of his goons gasping, his chest being held to the ground by Alistair’s mailed foot.

“So, let me say this again,” Renya said acidly. “I suggest you let us pass. Leave all these goods that you have no doubt stolen, and be on your way, shemlen.”

“Yes, right away. Of course,” he said, gasping. He wriggled a little, trying to get free, but Renya held him tightly.

“On second thought, what do you think, lethallin?” she asked Alistair, forgetting for a moment that she wasn't speaking to Tamlen. “Should we let them go, or should they pay for their crimes?”

Alistair looked terrified at the thought of having to make this kind of decision, but he cleared his throat. “They… should leave,” he said. “Yes. Leave here and never return.”

“Right away, sers, right away! Please!” the wretched man cried out. Renya released him and shoved him to the ground. He scrambled to his feet and ran away, the two other remaining bandits scurrying after him. Morrigan watched them go with an odd look on her face.

“You know, Renya,” Alistair said as the continued crossing the bridge. “The people here have probably not seen many elves before, or at least elves who weren’t servants, and they certainly have not seen any Dalish. They may say some offensive things, and if it’s true that Loghain is saying we betrayed Cailan, well… we can’t really afford to be making any new enemies.”

Renya pressed her lips together in a line. “I understand. I will try very hard not to attack anyone.”

Alistair sighed. “That’s all I can ask.” He hoped she was joking and would do more than _try._

They entered the town minutes later, and, as Alistair’s luck would have it, Renya’s promise was immediately put to the test.

“Thieving knife-ear!” cried the first human they saw, glaring at Renya in her armor.

He spat on her.

Renya’s hand was on her longsword in a flash, but she hesitated before drawing it.

Alistair stepped in front of her. “Move along, now,” he said sternly. He watched out of the side of his eye as Renya slowly wiped the spit off her face.

“But it's in armor as was belonging to a human!” he said angrily, pointing around Alistair so his finger was inches from Renya’s face. The elf pulsed her jaw and glared back at the man. Part of her hoped that Alistair could convince the man to leave, and part of her wished for a reason to fight.

“Move _along,_ old man,” Alistair said with more force. With that, he pushed past the man and strode on.

“But she's…”

Morrigan narrowed her eyes at the man. He stammered to a stop and stared back, terror growing on his face. She continued to glare at him until Renya finally caught up with Alistair.  
  
“Fool,” Morrigan spat. The man watched her stride away, standing as still as a statue.

Alistair hurried them through the outskirts of the town amidst a sea of whispers. Renya walked behind the two humans, hoping the presence of Alistair and Morrigan would stem the flow of hushed remarks made about or toward her. But it was no use. The comments followed her, and it was too much for Alistair to hope that Renya, with her good hearing, didn’t catch the words.

“Is that elf… armed?”

“A sad day for Ferelden when rabbits are allowed to use swords.”

“Has the ban for knife-ears been lifted? Pity, and I liked poor King Cailan…”

“Why doesn’t that man do something about it?”

“Go back to your home in the woods, rabbit!”

“Did you see its forehead? It's a Dalish!”

“Dalish? Get the children inside!”

…and perhaps worst of all: “Someone should tell the templar guard.”

By this point, Renya’s jaw was pulsing so hard there was a good chance she was going to crack all her teeth if she continued. As if on cue, they passed a templar who stopped the little group.

“Business in Lothering?” he asked from inside his helm.

Alistair explained they were traveling and had stopped to purchase supplies, and insisted, quite vehemently, that they were not refugees seeking shelter. Grunting, the man invited them to the Chantry which, while overflowing with refugees, was still open to people wanting to pray to the Maker and Andraste. Alistair thanked them, Morrigan wisely stayed silent, and they moved on. A mailed hand grabbed Renya’s arm and twisted her around until she was staring into the eye-slit of the templar’s helm. Her pulse was pounding in her ears as she stared at the blue eyes peering out from behind the steel.

“And I’m watching you closely, knife-ear. Don’t try anything.”

Alistair was about to intervene when he saw Renya force a polite smile. “Len’alas lath’din, seth’lin,” she said pleasantly. “Fenedhis lasa. Dirthara’ma,” she concluded, as if ending a conversation. The templar stared at her for a minute, before grunting at her and letting her go.

“Damn knife-ear. Too dumb to speak the common tongue like everyone else?” he grumbled at her. Renya turned sharply and strode past both Alistair and Morrigan, an ugly look on her face. Alistair ran up behind her.

“Why do I get the feeling that you didn’t say anything particularly nice to that templar?” he asked.

“Because I didn’t,” she said shortly. And she refused to say anything else on the topic.

A few minutes later they reached the center of the town, dominated by the large stone Chantry. Alistair spoke with one of the templar guarding the door, who seemed impressed that they had disposed of the bandits. He recommended they find Ser Bryant, who was somewhere inside. Meanwhile, Renya gave some money to Morrigan and asked her to scope out supplies. She seemed grateful for the chance to be away from Alistair, although she looked at Renya seriously.

“Ah, look at how they wail and moan and gnash their teeth,” she said, nodding to the townsfolk hurrying about their business while shooting wary – and sometimes angry – glances at Renya. “’Tis sad to watch how they scurry about.Would you accompany me? Perhaps the apostate and the elf would offer amusement to the town,” she offered with an odd half-smile. Renya supposed she was trying to make her feel better, but shook her head. Morrigan told her she would be back soon, and walked off.

When Alistair returned to where Renya and Elgar were still standing and told the elf his news, he was met with a glare. After the reception Renya had received so far, he wasn’t really surprised.

“I am not entering a Shantri temple,” she said flatly. “I will be over there…” She pointed to a nearby tree. “Acting like the good little elf I am supposed to be,” she added bitterly.  
  
“Renya…”

“No, Alistair, just go. Just…go,” she said, shaking her head. “I will be fine. Ostegar was a dream for me. Now I have returned to reality.” And without waiting for him to reply, she stomped off, Elgar in tow.

Sighing, Alistair turned and entered the Chantry.

***

Before she settled in, Renya decided to change out of her armor to make herself less conspicuous. Ducking into a barn, she emerged a few minutes later in Dalish robes, brown and green and familiar. She made her way back over to the tree and set her pack and her armor in the shade before sitting beneath the leaves herself. Renya looked around the town, feeling more lost than she had felt since Duncan had taken her from her clan. How nice it would be to go back to Ostegar and hear his deep, reassuring voice again. Even amongst the chaos, he was a trusted hahren she could count on. She twirled the Keeper’s ring on her finger.

Sighing again, Renya absentmindedly put her hand on top of Elgar’s head. He was curled up next to her, panting and looking around the village. It really was a beautiful day. But… she took a breath to clear her mind and began to sing an old Dalish song she had heard too many times to count.

 _“Melana inan enansal, ir su aravel tu alvarel u na emma abela._  
_In elgar sa vir mana, in tu setheneran din emma na._  
_Lath sulevin, lath aravel ena arla vent u vir mahvir; melana’nehn enansalir sa lathalin.”_

…she sighed, keeping her eyes closed. There was nowhere to go now but forward.  
***

Sister Leliana walked out of the tavern, intent on returning to the Chantry to pray after saying goodbye to her friend… and after her friend had kissed her, something Leliana had carefully avoided doing with anyone for two years, especially the attractive Marion Hawke. As she walked through the town a sad song drifted past her on the wind and she stopped to listen.

“Melana inan enansal…”

The lay sister followed the voice, stepping quietly so as not to overpower the soft notes. The person singing turned out to be an elf, sitting beneath a great tree with her eyes closed, a dog on one side of her and a set of armor on the other. Unlike other elves Sister Leliana had seen, this one had strange markings on her forehead. They were beautiful, Sister Leliana thought to herself, and she knelt in front of the elf, listening to her sing and drinking in the image of her. Sitting under the tree, robes flowing around her, and with markings on her forehead, she looked every bit of what a wise and beautiful elf was supposed to be.

Oh, and she was armed, too, the sister noticed with some curiosity. And not just with a bow. Two swords sat with her armor, one long and one short, and there was a small hunting knife attached to the elf’s brown belt. She must be some sort of elven warrior; her tanned skin certainly suggested she spent a great deal of time in the sun. But the song continued, grabbing Leliana’s attention again and enchanting her.

“…Lath sulevin, lath aravel ena arla vent u vir mahvir; melana’nehn enansalir sa lathalin.”

The song came to a close and the elf sighed, looking sad. Sister Leliana wanted to reach out and touch her, both to comfort her and to prove to herself that she was real, but she resisted. And it was a good thing, too, because the elf opened her eyes and startled when she saw Leliana kneeling before her. The elf looked at her guardedly.

“Good afternoon,” Sister Leliana said politely. The elf nodded slowly.

“Good afternoon,” she replied warily.

“That was a lovely song,” the Chantry sister continued. “Is it Dalish?”

Renya cocked an eyebrow at her. “It is. And yes, to answer you unasked question, I am in fact Dalish. Hide your children, I suppose,” she muttered.

The sister tilted her head a little. “Did someone say that to you?”

“A few someones,” Renya replied darkly. Sister Leliana looked troubled.  
  
“I am sorry to hear that, although I think apologizing on their behalf will do little to erase the things they said,” she commented. Renya looked at her with some confusion, and let her eyes sweep over the woman’s body. She was dressed in the same red and orange robes she had seen at Ostegar. She even had the same sun embroidered across her chest. The Chantry. Her pulse quickened.

“In any case, the song was very beautiful, and I enjoyed listening to you sing it,” the Chantry sister continued, unaware of Renya’s increasing blood pressure. She did notice, however, how Renya’s eyes had scanned her up and down, and was embarrassingly pleased at the thought. And the elf’s ears… they were lovely and tapered, and… _Pull yourself together, Leliana,_ she thought to herself. “What does it mean?” she asked, holding the elf’s steady gaze.

Renya continued to look at her with an odd expression on her face. It was strange that a member of the Chantry was being so polite to her, stranger than anything else she had experienced up until this point.

“Ma serannas. Thank you,” Renya said evenly. Her eyes flitted up toward the woman’s red hair and back down to her blue eyes. “Yes, it is about taking heart from the past, but realizing that you cannot go back. It is about believing that the right path will emerge to bring you to a better future. It is a very old Dalish sentiment…” Renya stared off over Leliana’s shoulder introspectively. She brought her attention back onto the woman in front of her and saw a similar far-away look on her face. “I am sorry, you are…?

The sister startled. “I am sorry. I was so distracted by your singing…” she said lightly. Renya noticed for the first time that her accent was not like others from Ferelden. It was softer, nicer somehow. “I am Leliana, a lay sister of the Chantry.”

“Andaran atish’an, Leliana, sister of the Sha- Chantry. I am Renya Mahariel of the Sabrae clan,” Renya replied, deciding to not comment on the human’s occupation or mention her own status as a Grey Warden.

Leliana extended her hand. “Andaranan-tishan,” she repeated, only slightly mispronouncing the words. “It is very nice to meet you. Welcome to Lothering, since no one seems to have said that to you yet.”

Renya looked at Leliana’s hand, lost, but only for a moment. She copied Leliana’s movement and extended her hand, as well. “It is… nice to meet you, too,” Renya said with a moderate amount of conviction. She withdrew her hand. “And thank you. No, that is far from what anyone has said to me yet.” She noticed Leliana’s confused look and wondered if she had done something wrong. Leliana removed her hand and studied the elf before her.

“Will you be here for long? I am on my way to the Chantry, and would be pleased if you joined me,” she said kindly. “The Maker accepts all; you would be very welcome.”

“I highly doubt that,” Renya said with a glance at the templar at the door. She rubbed the vallaslin on her forehead, noticing Leliana’s eyes following her movements. The elf elaborated. “Your Maker and my people have a… rather troubled history. Perhaps if I lacked these-” She indicated her vallaslin. “Or these-” She pointed at her ears. “I would be more welcome.”

Leliana frowned, confused. The Maker accepted all. And He had not abandoned them the way some in the Chantry liked to profess. He was here, all around them. He had saved her, He and His Bride, Andraste. But she looked at the elf before her and nodded. While she could not understand how her Maker could give someone that impression, she respected when someone believed differently than she did.

“Of course,” she said now. “I should have realized you believe in the Dalish gods, no? I apologize if I offended you.”

“You… _you_ would apologize to _me?_ A human of the Shantri? To an elf?”

“Of course,” Leliana said again, frowning again. “Why wouldn’t I apologize, if I was wrong?”

“I… would have expected goats to fly out of my ears before I would have believed a human of the Shantri would apologize to a Dalish, or any elf,” Renya said in wonder.

They considered each other silently for a few minutes, until Renya noticed Morrigan returning with a wheeled cart full of camping supplies. She rose and Leliana followed her, watching as the elf picked up her belongings.

“Thank you for the conversation,” Renya said politely as she strapped her swords back onto her belt and slung her bow and pack on her back again. “But I must re-join with my traveling companions.” She bent down and started collecting her armor.

“I never asked,” Leliana said, trying to deter her. “What is such a well-outfitted elf doing in such a sleepy little town?” She indicated the armor and swords. “Surely you know that elves are not generally allowed to be armed here.”

Renya froze and looked at the lay sister slowly. “Are you going to report me to the templar now?” she asked icily.

Leliana’s eyes grew wide. “No! No, not at all, I was merely curious!”

“I am traveling,” Renya said shortly. “If you would excuse me… miss,” she added, the Ferelden word feeling strange in her mouth. After hearing people call her that several times at Ostegar, Alistair had assured her that it was a polite way to refer to a young woman. Judging from Leliana’s expression, she wasn’t sure if he had told her the truth or not.

“I could help you carry your armor. Here,” she said, stooping to help the elf arrange the pieces in her arms so she could stand. Renya sighed and straightened, annoyed. Leliana looked at her awkwardly, holding one of Renya’s fingertip-less leather gloves. She tried to not look as uncomfortable as she felt.

“Blessed are the peacekeepers,” she said with a small smile as she added the glove to the pile Renya was carrying. A heavy silence fell between them. The elf’s face was mutinous. Leliana tried to backtrack, not completely sure what had upset the elf.

“Renya, I’m sorry, I only meant –”

“Thank you,” Renya said stiffly. “Enjoy your day.”

“And you as well,” Leliana replied, her heart sinking. “Hopefully our paths will cross again.”

“Hm.” Renya stalked off, Elgar following her. She walked up to where Morrigan was standing. The witch had been watching the lay sister bumble over herself to help the elf and shook her head.

“These Chantry folk certainly are entertaining,” she commented. “’Tis true, yes?”  
Renya grunted in response before dumping her armor into the cart and taking one of the handles from Morrigan. She surveyed the merchandise inside.

“Great,” she said, eyes sweeping over the tents and bedrolls that they had been without since leaving Flemeth’s hut. Some other food and possibly potion items were tucked away carefully, as well.

“Who was she?” Morrigan asked now, her gaze following Leliana as she slowly made her way to the Chantry.

“Some Shantri sister. I do not remember her name,” Renya replied, starting to push the cart.

“Hm,” Morrigan echoed Renya.

“So apparently, the Grey Wardens are in fact, officially… wanted by the royal family,” Alistair finished dejectedly, coming up behind them. “Although Ser Bryant is grateful to us for running off those bandits.”

“Good for Ser Bryant,” Renya grumbled.

“There was a reward,” Alistair said, trying to placate her. “We are now a few sovereigns richer!” He eyed Morrigan’s purchases. “Although maybe not quite. Oh, and you changed,” he added, noticing Renya’s armor in the cart.

“Yes, I hoped that maybe I would fit in better without armor on. It apparently worked. I had a long conversation with some Shantri sister,” she answered, making a dismissive gesture with her hand, “who seemed to have no idea as to why I would be in Lothering.” She caught Alistair’s look. “I’ll change back before we leave, I promise.”

“Shall we stop for a bite to eat?” he said, noticing the tavern as his stomach gave a loud growl. Renya smiled and shook her head. “What? I can’t control it.”

Morrigan looked carefully at the Warden helping her push the cart. “Is it… _wise_ to tarry here longer that we have? Perhaps we should move on.”

“Perhaps we should,” Renya murmured. Alistair looked desperate, and Renya was quite hungry, as well. “Maybe we can learn more about the aftermath of the battle, too.” She sighed. “Although I really, really do not want to meet any more of the shemlen from this village,” she muttered darkly.

Morrigan sighed and shrugged. “If you insist on being foolish…”

“A hungry Warden is an unhappy Warden,” Alistair said. His stomach growled again. “And an unhappy Warden can’t fight the Blight.”

“Am I now to be dazzled by your poetic ability, Alistair?”

And so they continued through the town. Renya found herself being pointed at again.

“See that?” one man whispered to his friend. “They say those people and the elf ran off the bandits!”

“Really?” replied the other gossip. “Maker’s blessings on them, maybe we can start getting some of our supplies back…”

Renya’s ears pricked up. That was a nice change, even if she was not included with the term “people.”

Outside of the tavern, she packed their new camping things into bags, locked them in a chest, and left it at the side of the tavern.

“Anyone who tries to steal anything will regret it,” Morrigan said, casting a spell over the locked box. Renya nodded approvingly. The last thing they needed was for their camping gear to be stolen.

A bell jingled as they entered the tavern. It was very crowded, and Renya kept her hands on the hilts of her blades, trying to keep them as tucked in as possible so as not to hit anyone.

“Well, look what we have here, men,” said a man in black armor, turning to his similarly-clad companions. “I think we’ve just been blessed!”

“Uh oh, Loghain’s men. This can’t be good,” Alistair muttered so only Renya could hear. She saw Morrigan stiffen and step behind the two Wardens. Of course, she was an apostate. No, she was a mage and was getting ready for a fight, Renya realized.

The man continued, his deep voice rumbling around the tavern. “Haven’t we been asking around all day for an elf of this description? And no one claims to have seen you. How odd.”

“It seems we were lied to,” said one of the other men conversationally, his eyes glinting with malice as he looked at the Wardens’ party.

Yes, that was odd, and Renya frowned. Most of the town seemed to dislike her simply for being an elf. Why wouldn’t they run to these men and drag them over to where she had been sitting under the tree? Perhaps news of the bandits spread faster than she thought.

“Now, gentlemen, I’m sure there is a way that we can settle this peaceably,” said a familiar accent. Apparently the lay sister had decided to abandon her prayers at the Chantry and head back to the tavern, following the elf. “I’m sure they are just more poor refugees seeking shelter.”

Renya suddenly wished she had kept her armor on, especially looking at the very long, very sharp swords the men in front of her were wielding. But perhaps, dressed as she was, she would pass for a refugee. Not likely; even though her robes were not of a fine material, she still had the swords at her sides and a bow on her back… but it was a nice thought.

“They’re more than that,” the man barked. Leliana’s eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. “Now stay out of our way, Sister. You protect these traitors, you’ll get the same as them.”

Renya’s eyes narrowed. As much as she didn’t like the Chantry, it didn’t seem right for a bunch of shemlen soldiers to hurt someone for simply trying to prevent unnecessary violence.

“I do not want you harmed, miss,” Renya said to Leliana. “Please stand back.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Leliana said, glancing at her. “No one will be harmed here. I’m sure we can all simply talk this out. There must be a misunderstanding…”

As the sister passed in front of Renya, the elf felt a tug at her belt. Renya instinctively went to grab at the hand that was pulling at her until she realized that it was the lay sister who was attempting to deftly take the hunting knife from her.

She tightened her grip on the hand at her belt. The Chantry sister was still talking as if nothing was happening, fabricating a reason that the guards must be mistaken. But she didn’t let go of Renya’s knife, either. In fact, she was still tugging at it, a little more insistently now.

Renya withdrew her hand with an inaudible sigh, resting it again on the hilt of her sword, and allowed the knife to be pulled from her belt. The lay sister approached the guards while slipping the blade up her sleeve with a flutter of her fingers. The movement had been so fluid and graceful that unless the guards had been looking at her hands, which they weren’t, they would not have noticed her actions. The elf felt an amused smile creeping onto her face before she forced it back to a neutral expression. There was more to this sister than she first realized. And she seemed to be on their side, at least for the moment.

“These are Grey Wardens, enemies of Ferelden!” the soldier yelled now. “And they are wanted by our regent Loghain. They betrayed King Cailan on the battlefield.”

“That is not what happened, and you know it,” Renya growled. She saw the sister frown as she looked between the guard and her, and sighed. The moment had, apparently, passed. She sighed again. She had never had to kill a woman before, and wasn’t looking forward to it.

“You’re a liar, you dirty knife-ear,” another guard spat. “You abandoned our king and left him to die!”

“Loghain betrayed Cailen! The Grey Wardens-!”

“I was there,” the first guard, presumably the captain, spat. “The teryn pulled us from a massacre!”

“The teryn left your king to die!” Alistair seethed.

“The Grey Wardens led the king to his death. The teryn could do nothing!” The captain shook his head. “Of course, with knife-ears in their ranks, I’m not surprised…”

A growl escaped Renya.

“Come quietly, now,” the other guard said, said as if speaking to an animal, “and we won’t hurt you too badly.”

“No.”

The word hung in the air and the guard looked at the elf in shock. She was a good head or so shorter than him, yet…

“What did you say, knife-ear?”

“I said no. Did you not hear me, seth’lin _shemlen?_ ”

The guard’s face turned ugly, and he pushed passed the lay sister and rushed the elf. His men drew their swords and fell on the traveling party. Renya wished again that she had left her armor on as she dodged around the blades falling around her, but she was faster than these men.

She felled one of the guards, and then spun in time to see another bearing down on her. Renya raised her short sword with a shout as the blade came down, but the guard checked himself, looking stunned. He fell down and Renya found herself staring at the lay sister, wielding Renya’s hunting knife. Their eyes met briefly before the sister spun, dodged a guard’s sword, and slit his throat.

Very soon, only the captain of the guard and two of his lieutenants remained. “Alright, alright! Enough!” he cried, seeing Morrigan knock down the man she had been fighting, only for him to be jumped on by Elgar.

Renya looked up from where she had one of the men pinned on the ground, the tip of her blade trained right below his chin, and saw the lay sister holding her hunting knife to the captain’s throat. She rose slowly and the man she had been kneeling on went limp.

“Elgar, mana. Stop,” Renya said quietly in Dalish. The dog immediately ceased his attack and trotted to his master’s side.

“Good, I think they’ve learned their lesson,” said Leliana. “Now we can all stop fighting.” But she didn’t release the man.

“But you… you betrayed…” the man stammered.

“Take a message to your seth’lin leader, Loghain,” Renya said with quiet power.

The man tried to straighten up, and the lay sister let him, but only slightly. “Yes… Yes of course.”

“Tell him that the Grey Wardens know what really happened at Ostegar.”

“Yes, ser. Right away,” the man gasped as the sister pressed the knife more tightly into the man’s throat. Renya frowned. She wasn’t going to kill him, was she?

“Repeat back the message,” she whispered close to his ear.

“Th-the Grey Wardens… know what really happened at Ostegar. Please!” he cried. The lay sister looked at the elf Warden, who nodded. She released him.

“Now go.” The elf glared at him.

“Yes, ser. Thank you, ser. Right away!” he said, and scampered out the door, followed by his few remaining men.

“You are Grey Wardens?” the lay sister asked the group, interested.

“We are, yes,” Alistair said, indicating himself and Renya. “And this is Morrigan, er…”

“Our guide,” Renya supplied, glancing at Morrigan, who nodded.

The sister looked between the two Wardens excitedly. Her gaze lingered on Renya for a moment. “I’m surprised you are an elf, but then again, I suppose elves want the Blight to end as much as humans, no?”

Renya nodded curtly. Leliana looked back at Alistair. “Then you are going to fight the darkspawn? That is what Grey Wardens do, no?”

Alistair and Renya glanced at each other before nodding.

“Wonderful. That is why I am coming with you.”

Silence.

Renya let out a dry chuckle. “I am sorry. You are what?”

“Coming with you.” The sister’s jaw was set, but Renya noticed the pleading look behind her eyes. Part of her wanted to just tell the woman to stay behind with her Chantry, but when she remembered how she had wielded her knife... Renya looked down at the sister’s hand, still holding the hunting knife, and then met her eyes again, as if to let her know she was aware her knife was still missing.

The elf sighed. “Why on earth would you want to do that?”

“Well, the Maker told me to.”

More silence. Renya fought the urge to laugh.

“The Maker?” she said wearily.

“Oh, good,” Alistair said in a low voice. “More crazy.”

Renya sighed again. “Care to…erm… elaborate?”

“I had a dream, a vision,” the lay sister said. She caught the matching looks on the three companions’ faces and bowed her head. “I know that sounds… absolutely crazy, but I know what I saw. This horror, this chaos around us, is not what He wants. What you do, what you are _meant_ to do, is the Maker’s work. Let me help!”  
Renya rubbed the vallaslin that traced down her nose. This shemlen of the Chantry was very skilled with a blade, and it would be good to have extra hands for the cause. And the Wardens accepted all, didn’t they? That’s why she, a Dalish elf, was here. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I am sorry,” Renya began. The sister looked disappointed. “I do not remember your name… Leli…?”

The sister brightened immediately. “Leliana,” she supplied happily.

“Leliana, right. Well, Leliana…” She couldn’t believe she was about to say this. “The Wardens will accept help wherever we can find it.”

“Really? And here I was thinking we were all full up on crazy,” Alistair commented.

“Perhaps you cracked your skull harder than Mother thought?” provided Morrigan.

Leliana stood in front of the group looking rather self-conscious, until Renya turned to them. “There are not many Shantri sisters who would dare try and take a knife from my belt and then fight off armored guards in little more than their robes. While I do not like the Shantri, or the Maker, or Andraste, or whoever else you sheml- humans worship, I know an asset when I see one,” she said with finality.

“Pragmatic. Interesting,” Morrigan murmured to herself.

Alistair nodded with resignation. “You’re right. I hate it when you’re right. Welcome, Sister,” he added politely to Leliana. “I’m Alistair.”

The group left the tavern, and Renya glanced at Alistair, who was sporting a somewhat grumpy look on his face. “So,” she said to get his attention. “A templar, a Dalish, an apostate, and a Shantri sister all walk out of a bar…”

Alistair laughed loudly and Leliana looked at the pair curiously. Morrigan groaned.

“Not you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a sort of "what if?" scenario... What if Leliana and the Warden met before Dane's Refuge? What would they talk about? Would Leliana be smitten immediately? Does she have a thing for elves? I also wanted to set up their relationship a bit, especially through the knife "borrowing" part. Obviously this is a f!Mahariel/Leliana pairing fic, but let me know your thoughts as to why that part might be important (yes, I'm crowdsourcing betas, now... love you all so much :) )
> 
> Translations:  
> Shantri - Dalish term for Chantry. I kept this in because I wanted to give more hints as to how I envision Renya's accent, not because she can't say the word "Chantry" with the harsh "ch" sound.  
> seth'lin - thin-blooded; an insult  
> shemlen - literally "quick blood," term originally used to refer to a human; now an insult  
> len'alas lathdin - dirty child no one loves. Isn't that the best insult??  
> fenedhis lasa - another Dalish swear. Renya is letting the templar have it.  
> dirthara'ma - may you learn; another insult
> 
> The song that Renya sings, called "Suledin" (endurance), is summed up within the story. I like it doubly because it and the song from the "Leliana's Song" DLC are loosely connected.
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	17. The Qunari in the Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party begins to leave Lothering with the Chantry sister, when they run into an unexpected prisoner before reaching the city limits.

They collected their things from the chest, each shouldering a pack of camping gear. Renya picked up the pieces of her armor and looked for a place to change again.

“Warden?” Leliana said tentatively. “May I… go say goodbye to the Revered Mother and collect my things?”

The elf startled, still not used to being referred to as a Warden and wondering why this lay sister would ask her permission for anything. “Of course. We will not be leaving for a short time, yet.”

Leliana thanked her and strode off toward the Chantry. Renya ducked into the nearby barn and changed back into her armor. She came out a few minutes later, adjusting her studded gloves. Alistair looked at her.

“I’m surprised you made it through that with just those robes,” he said, jerking a thumb at the tavern.

“Me, too,” she said, straightening her breastplate and adjusting her belt before swinging on the rest of the equipment she was going to be carrying.

“Perhaps, if the Chantry sister is going to be joining us, we will need another bedroll, yes?” Morrigan asked. Alistair nodded and reached into his pouch for some money.

“Yes, I’ll go this time,” he said before walking off.

Renya and Morrigan wandered out into the sunlight again, and Renya noticed the witch looking at her curiously.

“Yes?”

“I am merely studying you again,” Morrigan said simply. Too tired to argue, Renya nodded.

“Study away. Let me know if you discover anything interesting,” she said conversationally.

“I already have,” Morrigan said before turning her attention elsewhere. “Are those elves?”

Renya looked and nodded. It was a whole family of them, standing in a huddle and trying to catch the attention of anyone who passed them. She walked over. The little boy clutched his toy closer to his chest.

“Please, help us,” the man said, seeing Renya and Morrigan coming closer. “Our belongings were stolen from us on the bridge, and we have no food to eat.”

“There were bandits,” the woman added in a terrified whisper.

Renya looked at the city elves with pity. Their clothes were ragged and they looked famished. She handed them a few silver pieces. “Here,” she said. “And the bandits are gone. We… took care of them,” she said with a glance at the fledgling, indicating herself and Morrigan.

“You did? Oh, that is wonderful news!” the woman cried.

“Perhaps some of our belongings are still on the bridge then,” the man added, looking at his bonded happily. “Thank you, kind ser. Maker’s blessings on you!” And with that they walked away.

“I didn’t realize elves worshipped the Maker,” Morrigan said with some surprise. Renya shook her head.

“City elves do. They have forgotten their gods and instead worship the sheml- human god,” she said sadly. “Some do not even want to remember where they came from.”

“Hm. The Dalish are much different,” the witch commented. “From what I have seen and what Mother has said.”

“Yes. We are.”

“There you are. Are we all ready?” Alistair had returned from his shopping trip.

“Where is Leliana?” Renya asked, looking around. She had been gone for a while, longer than Renya thought it would take for a sister with a vow of poverty to collect her belongings.

“Let us leave her,” Morrigan suggested.

“Oh! Wait! There you are!” Leliana’s voice floated toward them. Morrigan sighed.

“’Twas wishful thinking, I suppose,” she said wistfully.

The sister jogged over to them. “I thought you had left without me,” she said, her accent thicker as she caught her breath, hiking her pack higher on her back.

“No. Are we all ready?” Renya said. Heads nodded at her. “Let us go.”

Their path took them back in front of the Chantry, where a man with dark skin and dressed in Chantry robes was speaking. He smiled at them as they approached.

“And Eileen spoke unto the masses, ‘My hearth is yours, my bread is yours, my life is yours. For all who walk in the sight of the Maker are one.’” He looked at Renya expectantly.

“And… who are you exactly?” she asked. The man responded with a little nod and smile.

“You do not talk much, do you?”

“Warden…” came Leliana’s voice softly. But the man continued, seemingly not offended.

“Let all repeat the Chant of Light,” he said kindly. Renya’s eyebrows raised and she kept her face blank, even as her heart sped up. “Only the Word dispels the darkness upon us.”

“Does it, now?” she replied flatly, folding her arms.

“Warden…” Leliana’s voice was softer now, a little more pleading. A little boy standing next to the Chantry brother interrupted her.

“He can’t answer you. He’s Chanter Devons.”

Renya looked at the boy. “What is a Chanter?”

The boy looked at her like she had grown another head. “One of them’s that can only say the Chant of Light,” he said with a frown. “His board has letters of good deeds to be doing,” he added helpfully, pointing. “My father fixed Widow Allison’s roof once and the Chanter paid him, he did.”

“Oh yes,” Morrigan commented softly. “Let us run around doing good deeds for the Chantry while earning a few coppers.”

Chanter Devons looked at the boy fondly. “A learned child is a blessing upon his parents and unto the Maker.”

“So…” Renya narrowed her eyes as she studied the Chanter. “This is like a vow of silence? You cannot speak normally?”

“Unless it’s the Chant of Light,” the boy offered. “No.”

“And so,” Chanter Devons added. “Rajmael in the heathen temple recanted. ‘Speak only the Word; sing only the Chant. Then the Golden City is thine,’ spoke Andraste.””

Renya pulsed her jaw, hoping she wasn’t expected to “recant” anything right now. She looked at the man for a moment longer.

“And lo,” she said with a little smile. “A Chanter says, ‘What?’” She ignored the little scoff that came from behind her.

Chanter Devons made a face. “What?”

“Oh!” the boy cried happily. “You got him to speak! Ha!”

“Err…” the Chanter looked uncomfortable. “ _What_ hath man’s sin wrought?”

“Oh, he cheated…” The boy was staring at the Chanter with glee. Renya smiled at the Chanter, who looked at her placidly.

“I will leave you to your work,” Renya said, walking on. She heard Leliana pause.

“Maker’s blessings on you,” she said softly. The man reached out his hand over her.

“I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond,” he said. “For there is no darkness in the Maker’s Light. And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”

“Thank you, Brother.”

They had reached the city limits when they came across a cage with a large creature in it. He was very tall, with broad shoulders, bronze skin, and white hair.

“A qunari?” Alistair asked. The creature seemed to be sleeping. He opened his eyes. They were violet.

“Yes,” he rumbled at them.

“Why are you in there?” Renya asked.

The giant blinked at the elf. “I killed a family,” he said without emotion.

Renya blinked back at him. “Oh. How long have you been in there?”

“Twenty days, I think. I have lost count,” he said in the same low rumble. “I am near my end.”

“The Revered Mother had him put in there,” Leliana offered sadly.

“We can’t just leave him here,” Morrigan interjected. “This place will be overrun by darkspawn soon, and he is simply a meal in a cage, now.”

"I didn't expect mercy from you," Alistair commented.

"I also suggest we put Alistair in his place," Morrigan added with a small smile.

Alistair grunted with a little not. "There. _That's_ what I was expecting. Anyway," he added with a frown, turning to Renya. “You don’t seriously want to let him go? He just killed a family. I think we’re finally all full up on crazy, right?”

“Even qunari deserve a second chance, I think,” Leliana commented.

Renya continued to look at the qunari curiously. “Are you guilty?”

“Are you asking if I am guilty of the act, or are you asking if I feel guilt?”

“The… first one, I guess.”

“Yes. I am guilty.”

The elf sighed. She felt bad leaving him here, and Morrigan was right. When the darkspawn came, this creature would be an easy target, left with no way to defend himself or escape. “If I let you out, will you help us fight the Blight?”

“If you release me, I will be in your debt. So yes, I will follow you and aid in your quest to end the Blight, or die in the process,” he said evenly. Renya studied him closely for a moment or two longer.

“Alright. That i’s settled then. You are coming with us.”

Alistair squeaked. “You can’t be serious?”

“I am.”

“But the Revered Mother is the one who put him in there! She’s not just going to let him out!” he argued.

“Even if he is to be released into the care of the Grey Wardens?” Renya had a hard time believing that. The order seemed to carry weight with it, wanted by the royal family or not.

“No,” Alistair replied flatly.

“That’s really too bad, then.” Renya reached into her pouch, pulled out a small set of tools and set to work on the lock. A few silent minutes passed while she tinkered with it.

“It is not a lock that can be picked,” the Qunari said. “Another tried to free me, as well.”

“Well… it’s rusted. We could just… break it or something, can’t we?”

“Warden? May I?” Leliana asked quietly, holding out her hand for the lockpicking tools. Renya raised an eyebrow at her and handed the instruments over, smiling slightly.

“Of course. Why shouldn’t the deadly Shantri sister know how to pick a lock, as well?” she said with a little humor.

Leliana smiled and began to work on the lock. About two minutes later, there was a dull click, and Leliana was able to force the lock open, letting the Qunari out.

“Thank you,” he said, looking at Leliana. He turned to Renya. “I am in your debt. When do we depart?”

“Right now, unless you’d rather stay.”

“I’d rather not,” he grumbled. They set off again.

“What’s your name?” Leliana asked as they walked.

“I am called Sten,” the qunari replied.

Leliana smiled and introduced herself and the rest of the group.

“And this?” Sten asked, looking at Elgar.

Renya patted the dog, who barked happily. “This is Elgar, my mabari.”

“They are fine warriors,” he commented. “They only imprint themselves on worthy masters. Hm.” He glanced over Renya with a critical eye. She ignored him, inwardly sighing. Just what she wanted: another party member to always be “studying” her.

They left the village, and Alistair pulled out a thin book of maps. He looked around at the incredulous looks his companions were giving him. “What?” he said defensively. “You think I know every inch of this country by heart?”

“Where did you get that?” Renya asked, interested.

“It was a gift from Dathorin, another Grey Warden,” Alistair said, suddenly sad. “His uncle was a mapmaker. Anyway,” he continued, opening the maps. “We’re going to Redcliffe first, right?” Renya noticed that his boisterous tone was not matched by the look on his face.

“Yes, to meet this arl friend of yours,” Renya agreed.

“Right,” Alistair said vaguely, turning the maps this way and that. He looked up and pointed. “This way.”

“Ser Alistair…” Leliana said gently, turning the map a different way and pointing to something on the vellum with a smile.

“Oh,” he said, disappointed. He pointed in a different direction. “That way.”

“There you go,” Leliana said, glancing at Renya with a smile.

“You were holding it the wrong way?” Morrigan said in disbelief. “Well I’m glad at least one of our Wardens has some sense, anyway.”

“I have sense!” Alistair protested.

“We are doomed,” Sten rumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they're off! Will Sten follow the lead of a Dalish elf? Will the elf be able to stand traveling with a Chantry sister who had a holy vision? Tune in next time!
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	18. A Question for a Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions face their first darkspawn fight together, and Leliana tries to get to know the elven Warden.

They walked in silence for a time, Morrigan and Renya at the front, having convinced Alistair that _maybe_ his sense of direction wasn’t that good. Leliana had stayed behind to console the pouting man, and Sten took up the rear. Elgar stuck by Renya’s side mostly, although he seemed to be fond of the qunari, as well.

“I noticed the other Warden doesn’t like the Chantry very much,” Leliana commented to Alistair softly some time later. Alistair sighed, hoping they were far enough away that Renya couldn’t hear them.

“No, she doesn’t,” he replied simply.

“Why is that? The Maker brings peace, harmony. His teachings are of love and acceptance,” she said in shock. The ex-templar grimaced.

“You may not be aware of this, Sister, but the Dalish… they are actively hunted by the templar, and therefore by the Chantry,” he said carefully. “They are considered heathens, and an enemy of the faith. A blight of a different sort… Apparently, most assume His grace only applies to humans. And templar, well…” He sighed. “A lot of them like to quote Chant verses as they… cleanse the Maker’s world, driving that point right home,” he said, finishing his sentence with a mocking tone. Leliana felt guilty, remembering her own quote of the Chant earlier. Of what had she reminded her?

Alistair glanced up at his fellow Warden and lowered his voice so Leliana had to lean in to hear him. “She’s told me it was bad, but I’m actually afraid to ask her what happened.”

“Poor thing,” Leliana said, also looking at Renya’s back as they walked along. “And she hates humans so much.”

After their time in Lothering, Alistair could see why. He nodded with a little shrug of his shoulder. “Hate is a strong word, but… mistrusts, definitely. Maker knows she hasn’t been treated well by them. Our time in Lothering was awful. Even I began to be offended by some of the things being said to her.”

“But that is what I don’t understand!” Leliana exclaimed. “I saw her fight, she fights like a trained human, not…”

“An elf?” Alistair asked with a knowing smile. Leliana looked shocked. Neither noticed Renya’s ears prick up. “I thought the same thing, too. ‘She so smart for an elf!’, ‘She’s as good as a human on the battlefield!’” He laughed humorlessly. “Duncan pointed it out to me.”

Leliana frowned thoughtfully and didn’t respond. Alistair returned his attention to the Warden and witch leading them, and they walked on, each pursuing their own thoughts.

***

“An elf?”

Renya’s ears pricked up at the word. It had been a while since Alistair had said that word with such incredulity.

“They are speaking about you, are they not?” Morrigan asked.

“They are, and have been for some time,” Renya replied.

“Anything of interest?”

“It is all interesting; it is about me,” she said with a smile, looking at her companion. Morrigan looked confused. “It was a joke, Morrigan.”

“’Twas not a very funny one.”

Renya chuckled. “I will try harder next time.”

“Do.” They were beginning to get on well.

Renya suddenly stopped walking, and Morrigan looked at her curiously. Singing… there was singing in her head, and it was coming from the left. She turned and saw Alistair drawing his blade. Noticing this, Sten stood at the ready, fists clenched. They would have to find him armor and a weapon at some point... With a jolt, Renya realized that the lay sister, Leliana, was unarmed as well… except for Renya’s knife, which would only go so far in a fight against…

“Darkspawn,” she muttered to Morrigan as she crept over to the Chantry sister.

“Are you any good with a bow?” she asked from behind her, making Leliana jump.

“Yes, I have fairly good aim,” Leliana said, turning, “though it has been a long time.”

“Here,” Renya said. She handed over her bow and arrows, her stomach clenching. “This bow will not fail you,” she said seriously. Leliana took it from her with a word of thanks, although she looked confused.

“Take good care of it,” Renya growled before stalking away.

It was only a moment more before the darkspawn were upon them. They made quick work of the monsters, and Renya was pleased with the fighting ability of Sten and was moderately impressed with Leliana. She had to remind herself that she said she was out of practice… and was a human.

Leliana came up to her when it was all over. “How did I do?” she asked with a smile, handing the bow over to her. Renya pushed it back toward her.

“Very well. It was good to have some cover,” she said politely. She took a deep breath. “Hold onto it, we may come across more.”

Leliana noticed how uncomfortable the elf looked. “Is there something wrong?”

Renya squinted off into the distance. “That bow was a gift, and it has a story. It means much to me,” she said, keeping her voice steady. She turned on her heel and set off, with the group following her. Leliana fell into step beside her.

“I would like to hear it.”

Renya looked at her blankly.

“I love stories,” the woman prompted her. Renya shook her head.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Well, if you won’t tell me the story, can I ask you a question?”

Renya saw Morrigan roll her eyes and fall back and wished she could do the same.

“Why do you want to ask me a question?” the elf returned, looking straight ahead.

“So I can get to know my new traveling companions,” Leliana said simply. Renya sighed.

“Go ask Alistair something. You two seem to be getting on well,” the Warden said carefully. Leliana looked at her, worried.

“You heard us?”

Renya indicated her ears. “Not just for show.” She noticed Leliana’s gaze lingered on her ears a little too long to be natural before looking back at her face.

Leliana took a breath. “So is that a yes?” Renya finally glanced at her.

“Is what a yes?”

“You will answer a question?”

Renya shook her head at the lay sister in disbelief. “Fine, go ahead,” she grunted. Leliana smiled.

“What is your favorite color?”

“ _That_ is your question?” Renya asked with annoyance.

“Yes.”

The elf sighed. “Blue. Like the sky during harvesting season.”

“My favorite color is green, like the forest we’re passing,” Leliana commented, smiling at the trees as they walked. “Although I think blue might be my second-favorite…” She surreptitiously looked at the blue-and-silver armor Renya was wearing.

From behind them, Alistair shook his head at Leliana. While he hadn’t known Renya for too long, he knew when she didn’t want to talk anymore, and the elf had reached that point before the conversation had even begun.

“What was your job with your clan?”

A pause. “I was a hunter. A warrior.”

“Did you name your bow?”

Renya took a calming breath. “It came with a name. Breath of Falon’din,” she said as matter-of-factly as she could. “He is the god who guides us to the Beyond when we die. No one can escape the breath of Falon’din when he comes for you.” Leliana was silent for a moment.

“Who gave you your bow? It is beautifully made,” the lay sister complimented. Even if she wouldn’t tell the story, she hoped the Warden would tell her at least who made it for her. _A lover, perhaps?_

Renya stiffened.

“A… friend. He… Ma lethallin,” she clipped, keeping her gaze on the horizon. Something about her voice kept Leliana from asking his name, and asking what the last word she said meant. She decided to steer away from the topic until later.

“Do you-?”

“Creators, how many questions do you have?”

“You could ask me a question if you’d like,” Leliana suggested.

“I do not have any questions for you.”

“Oh, you must have questions. You said yourself, I am a deadly Chantry sister who can pick locks, and-”

“Why did you join the Chantry, _Sister_ Leliana?” Renya cut her off, spitting her title like it was poison.

A long pause followed this. “Why did I join the Chantry?” Leliana echoed softly, her offense at the tone overshadowed by her concern for her answer. She frowned, considering what she wanted to say. The answer was a complicated one, and Leliana shook her head almost imperceptibly. Her questions hadn’t been nearly so personal, had they? But, after her conversation with Ser Alistair, Leliana supposed this was very important for a Dalish elf.

“The chantry provides safe harbor and peace to those seeking it,” Leliana said carefully.

“And you were seeking this?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Leliana hesitated, considering what to say next.

Renya was watching her carefully. She nodded as Leliana continued to walk silently beside her. “Remember that the next time you want to ask me a personal question,” she said.

Leliana nodded and fell back, feeling horrible. Instantly, Morrigan replaced her by Renya’s side.

“I do not want to talk anymore, Morrigan.”

“Good. I do not want to listen.”

Renya smiled.

***

“She doesn’t really like prying,” Alistair said as Leliana fell into step beside him again. He noticed her face. “Maker, what did she say to you?”

“Nothing. She didn’t want to talk to me about her past and I… And she let me know very clearly that it would not happen again,” Leliana said sadly.

Alistair put a hand on Leliana’s shoulder. “Sister Leliana, this is your first day with us, give her time. You’re a human she doesn’t know, a Chantry sister…” He sighed when he saw her expression. “Let her get used to you. She’ll come around.”

“Why would she want me to come with her?” Leliana whispered, feeling ridiculous that she cared so much. But Alistair smiled at her kindly.

“She respects your skills. She’ll come around to like you,” Alistair said confidently. “She did with me.”

“Lethallin!”

Alistair smiled. “See? Excuse me.”

Leliana watched him go and gave herself a little shake. That word again. Of course. Who wouldn’t come around to like Alistair? He was kind, handsome… She sighed. It was probably better this way anyway.

Alistair jogged up to the front. “What do you need?”

“Your map,” Renya said, glancing at him. He pretended to be hurt.

“And here I thought you missed talking to me!” he said, hand over his heart. Renya chuckled.

“I do, but right now I miss your map.”

He handed it to her, and she flipped it around, looking around at their surroundings. “Are we lost?” he asked.

Renya sighed. “Well, we are somewhere here,” she said, drawing a circle on the map with her finger. Morrigan looked over her shoulder and started searching, as well.

“Maybe I should get Sister Leliana?” Alistair asked with a glance at the sister.

“If you think that is best,” Renya said evenly, running her finger along the vellum as she searched for something.

Leliana and Sten, meanwhile, had seen the Wardens stop and joined the group huddled around the map.

“Do you know anything about this area, Sten?” Renya asked. The qunari shook his head.

“I have not been this far west in Ferelden, Warden,” he said in his low voice. “How long have we been on the wrong path?”

“’Tis not the wrong path,” Morrigan offered. “We are still walking west.” She indicated the setting sun. “But perhaps ‘tis not the fastest path? Evening is upon us, and we may want to turn our minds to a place to camp for the night…”

“But to do that, we need to have a better idea of where we are,” Renya mumbled. Leliana hung back, not wanting to upset the elf more than she already had. Her heart skipped a beat when the Warden looked up at her.

“Any suggestions, Sister Leliana?”

Leliana reached out for the map, which Renya handed over. She scanned it quickly, her eyes darting from the map to the woods and back, mouthing words silently. “We are around here,” she said, drawing a smaller circle with her finger.

“We are not too far off our trail, then,” Morrigan said, nodding. “Perhaps a clearing slightly to the south? Our path would then put us in greater alignment with the town.”

They agreed and changed course. An hour later they came across a clearing and began to set up camp. Alistair and Sten wrestled with the tents (some more stoically than others), and Leliana set about lighting a fire. Morrigan generously offered to cook, something she hadn’t done prior to Lothering, and Renya borrowed her bow back from Leliana to go hunting.

As the elf disappeared into the trees, Leliana found herself staring at the last place she had been able to clearly see her. Unfortunately Morrigan caught her.

“Very interested in our Warden, are you? She will be fine.”

“I’m afraid I’ve upset her,” Leliana said. “And it was very unintentional.”

“Kindly do not bellyache at me,” Morrigan said swiftly.

“I’m not bellyaching,” Leliana replied defensively. “I only… oh never mind.” Morrigan nodded, smiling slightly.

***

Renya stepped into the woods and immediately felt like she could breathe more easily. She stepped quietly, listening to the rustle of the wind in the trees and pricking her ears up at the light sounds of animals padding along the forest floor. There were five of them, plus a dog. Whatever she brought back would have to be enough for all of them.

As she made her way through the forest, her thoughts drifted to the events of the day. She was regretting letting Leliana tag along. A _Shantri_ sister… what was she thinking?

She remembered the incident at the tavern and paused. Of course. _The Shantri doesn’t train its lay sisters in combat. That’s why they had templar, wasn’t it?_ Leliana was not always a servant to the Chant. She, too, had a past she was not ready to divulge to her new companions.

Renya grunted to herself, and then her ears pricked up. A large deer came into view and she fitted an arrow to her bow swiftly, clicking the wood to give it a fair warning. It raised its head. She clicked again and it sprang away. Renya let the arrow fly, and her aim was true, hitting the creature in the neck. It tried to spring again, but collapsed. The elf was upon it instantly, thanking Andruil for guiding her and ensuring the animal’s death was without suffering.

Now, then, she hadn’t thought this part through. Usually she and Tamlen hunted together, and between the two of them they were able to haul back their kill. There was no chance of that now. She shook her head, thinking she should have asked someone to come with her. Throwing her bow back over her shoulders, she bent down and tried to move the animal with no luck. Suddenly an idea came to her. She pulled some hunting twine from her belt and tied it to the animals legs, then whistled shrilly.

Within moments, she heard the heavy breathing of Elgar approaching. He skidded to a stop in front of her and barked happily.

“Do you think you can help me bring this back to camp, Elgar?” she asked him in Dalish. The dog seemed to size the animal up before barking and wagging his tail. “Good boy. Some of that’s for you, you know.” She smiled as he wiggled at her, looking as if he might just fly away in his excitement. She tied the strings around him like a harness, and grabbed the string tied around the deer’s middle, setting it over her shoulder.

“Ready boy? Let’s go back to camp.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, dear. It seems like our Chantry sister hasn't made a very good impression, has she?
> 
> I also made the animosity between the Chantry and the Dalish a little more palpable (as evidenced in the first few chapters). I think the history is there, and I wanted to explore how it might affect Renya's interactions if humans were a little more overtly wary/afraid of her, and she had a long - and bad - history of interacting with humans.
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	19. A Peace Offering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Leliana tries to learn more about Renya's past life in an attempt to quash - or support - her unsolicited feelings toward the elf.

Alistair greeted her when they returned. “I would have come with you if you’d asked,” he said, looking at Elgar. “Although you managed by yourself, of course.”

Renya smiled. “Help me cut it up for dinner.”

While the meat was cooking and Alistair tried to make conversation with Sten, Renya flopped down on her bedroll and stared into the fire. She noticed that Leliana was strangely absent. She looked around the camp and saw Leliana sitting by herself a little way off, staring back toward Lothering. The elf sighed. Assuming she had again overreacted to something a human had meant kindly, she heaved herself up and walked over to the lay sister. She sat down next to her and stared in the same direction as her companion. Leliana turned her head slightly to look at her out of the side of her eye.

“You know, I am a terrible archer,” Renya said by way of a conversation opener. This seemed like a good thing to say to humans. They seemed to appreciate when she pointed out her flaws, especially after she was rude to them.

“But you’re an elf,” Leliana said before she could stop herself. Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean –” Renya, however, chuckled, relaxing her.

“Yes, I am,” she agreed. “And I am one of the worst archers of my clan.” She glanced at Leliana before going back to watching the sky darken before them. “I was an apprentice hunter for a year after my vallaslin ceremony…” She pointed to the markings on her forehead. Leliana capitalized on being able to study them again. Renya continued, either unaware or not caring if she stared. “…and broke seven bows in that time period, nearly took the ear off of the master hunter at least three times, missed countless targets, and put a permanent hole through a long tapestry my friend had outside her aravel.” The elf smiled and shook her head at the memory. Merrill had been so upset with her…

Leliana smiled as well. It faded slightly. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I thought you liked stories,” Renya said simply. Leliana’s smile returned, brighter this time.

“I do! Please continue!”

Renya took a breath. “I was always better with blades, but, as you said, elves use bows. The day of my test… it was a miracle. I did not break the bow, and I only missed the bulls-eye one time. I even managed to bring down an animal with one shot. Andruil was with me that day.”

“Andruil?” Leliana asked, interested.

“The Elvhen goddess of the hunt,” Renya explained. She continued with her story, finally looking at Leliana. “Two years later, I was still awful, at least by elven standards. My friend always made fun of me… One day, oh it had been terrible,” she said, getting into the story, smiling as Leliana turned to face her fully.

“It was my second bow that month. We were practicing, when all of a sudden, I pull back the string,” she said as she mimed the action, “and crack! the wood split, and I’m standing there like a da’felas with a broken bow in my hands. The arrow whizzed past the target into the woods, birds took wing and flew from the treetops...” Renya laughed as she demonstrated the chaos with her hands.

“What did your friend do?” Leliana asked, smiling. Renya’s smile faded a little, and Leliana’s mood sank with it.

“He… he had been crafting me a bow, and gave it to me that day. This one,” Renya said, picking up the bow she had brought over with her. She gazed at it. “To tease me, and also to help me, he named it Breath of Falon’din…”

“Because no one can escape when Falon’din comes for you,” Leliana filled in, staring at Renya and wishing to catch her eye. Renya nodded but remained staring at the bow.  
“It was the only bow I ever needed after that. It has served me well over the years… It has never broken and its aim has been true. At least, its aim has been true when _my_ aim has been halfway decent.” She absentmindedly stroked the smooth wood.

“But he must not have been surprised when you became a Grey Warden, no? And your clan must be proud of you,” Leliana said, studying for Renya’s reaction carefully. Perhaps she had been mistaken about Alistair. Perhaps instead this nameless elf was the one who would be keeping Leliana’s feelings in check.

The elf’s face instantly became blank. “I do not know his opinion on the matter. And do not ask me about my clan.” A hint of warning crept into her voice.

Leliana took a deep breath. She decided to press her luck. “Do you wish he was here with you?’

Renya’s face twitched into a frown, and Leliana startled at the sudden anger. “Yes,” Renya said forcefully. “Do not ask me anything else about him, Shantri sister,” she added sharply. Green eyes flashed as she looked at Leliana.

“Of course, Warden,” Leliana replied quickly. She swallowed her other questions. A silence fell between them. Finally Renya shook her head and handed her bow to the human next to her.

“Until we find you your own equipment,” Renya said curtly. “You can use it. You cannot be unarmed, not with darkspawn about.” She looked past Leliana into the forest behind her. “He would be shocked if he ever knew I trusted a shem- a human enough to lend my bow to.” Renya suddenly looked sad, and Leliana resisted the urge to put her arm around the elf’s shoulders.

“I will take good care of it, and try to do you both proud,” she said. She wasn’t sure what else to say. Renya took away that responsibility by rising.

“Shall we go back to the camp? It smells like the evening meal is almost ready. I hope Morrigan is a better cook than Alistair.” After a brief hesitation, the elf offered her hand to Leliana, who took it and rose. The sister glanced down at the bow in her hands.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. Renya nodded in response. They walked back to the campfire side by side.

***

Morrigan’s cooking was indeed better than Alistair’s, and Renya took first watch feeling satisfied for the first time in what seemed like ages. The deer had provided more than enough food for everyone, and Elgar was happily gnawing on a bone as the rest of the camp fell asleep. The elf heard footsteps coming up behind her, but they were too light to be darkspawn. Besides, she didn’t hear the terrible music.

“Thank you for the story earlier, Warden.” It was Leliana.

Renya looked at her, eyebrows raised. “…you… are welcome, Sister Leliana” she said hesitatingly. “Thank you for letting me be angry at you today.”

Leliana waved her hand dismissively. “I should know better than to pry into people’s lives.” She walked closer to Renya, who watched her warily. This close to the elf, Leliana was suddenly enveloped in the smell of forest air and pine needles.

Renya felt something on her belt move. She looked down and saw Leliana clumsily trying to replace her hunting knife, and fixed her with a completely amused expression.

“I… it’s easier to get them out,” Leliana tried to explain, chuckling with embarrassment. “I usually don’t try to sneakily _return_ knives to people…”

“Oh? Usually Shantri sisters are only asked to take hunting knives from others?”

“Wh-what I meant to say is…” She stopped talking as she felt Renya gently take the knife from her and replace it in her belt with one easy, practiced motion.

“Ma serannas. Thank you,” Renya said. She considered Leliana for a moment. “The woman who raised me gave this knife to me, as I was a hunter,” she said. “It belonged to her son, also a hunter,” she added with a touch of sadness. “I carry it to honor him and the others of our clan who have fallen. Thank you for giving it back.”

Leliana was taken aback. Questions filled her mind again. “I’m so sorry,” she began. “What happened…?”

“No more stories tonight,” Renya said tersely. She caught Leliana’s look and sighed. “I am not angry. Just… not tonight.”

Leliana nodded. Her eyes were drawn into the elf’s green ones, glinting in the dark, but she shook herself and bid the Warden good night. Renya nodded to her and continued her watch.

***

The next day dawned rainy and grey, and the group grumbled as they packed up their soggy belongings and trudged down the muddy path. Even Renya, no stranger to the elements, found herself cursing the mud as she slopped through it. Morrigan had tried shapeshifting into a raven, but her feathers became soaked almost instantly and she perched on Renya’s shoulder.

“Walk and be miserable with the rest of us, Morrigan,” she grumbled, shaking her shoulder.

The raven cawed at her and fluttered off, less gracefully than usual, and perched on Elgar’s head next. The dog growled and shook himself, drenching Renya and Leliana further. Morrigan flew off with a squawk. She shifted back to her human form with a burst of white light.

“’Tis a terrible day,” she muttered, looking like she had just stepped out of a lake.

Everyone was very grateful when the sun came out around noon, and they decied to open their packs and let their belongings dry out.

Alistair employed the time with polishing and oiling his armor, and Renya perched herself on a nearby rock facing the forest, sharpening her blades and checking her arrows. Leliana came over and sat down next to her, watching her work. Renya nodded to show she saw her, but didn’t say anything.

“You know, you have very nice ears,” Leliana commented thoughtfully after a while. She looked away. “If I may be so bold, Warden.”

Renya paused, her whetstone halfway down her sword. “You… think my _ears_ are nice?”

“Yes,” Leliana replied. “In Orlais, elves are considered quite beautiful, even exotic, and ears like yours would be thought extremely lovely. They are long and tapered and…” She took a breath, turning pink. Renya glanced at her.

“Elves are free in Orlais?”

“No,” Leliana admitted, disappointed and relieved that was all the Warden had taken from her statement. “But elven servants are often treated much better than their human counterparts.”

“I bet that some are still treated cruelly, like dogs.”

“No, not at all!” Leliana protested. “It is considered very high-class to have a lovely elf in your service, and nobles take very good care of them. They are considered nimble and dexterous and many people find them pleasing to look at.” She cleared her throat and looked away briefly.

“It is a good life for an elf. They are well cared for, protected, they wear the nicest clothes…” She trailed off again. Renya turned away from her and continued sharpening her blade, a little more forcefully than before.

“Would you have me offer myself to some Orlesian noble, then?” she asked coldly.

Leliana backtracked. “No, I didn’t mean that at all, I just…”

“Or let myself be used as a symbol of shemlen status?”

“No, I-”

“Or perhaps you see me as a prize-winning animal, or a trinket for you to possess?”

“No! Warden, I’m sorry, my words were clumsily chosen…”

“You may not be cruel,” Renya said, looking back at her. “But you still see us differently.”

The silence around them was broken by Renya removing her short sword and beginning to sharpen it. Her longsword was now draped across her knees.

“I… never realized how deeply I believed certain things,” Leliana said quietly. “Thank you, you have given me a lot to think about.”

“Good. Let us just move on.”

Once everything was finally dry, they packed up camp again and continued walking. The path was slightly easier to navigate as the mud was beginning to dry, but it was still slow going. Alistair and Renya were at the front of the group.

“You know,” he said presently after they had walked for a while. “I’ve been thinking…”

Renya looked at him. “About?” she prompted when he didn’t continue.

“I… I want to do something for Duncan. Set up a memorial for him or something. I don’t… I don’t think he had any family, and it doesn’t seem right that he isn’t remembered in some way.”

“He had you,” Renya said, not sure what else to say. “He was like a father to you, wasn’t he?” she added softly.

“He was,” Alistair replied, sounding sad.

“When this is over, we will figure out a way to honor him. He will be remembered, Alistair. They all will,” Renya said, bumping his arm with her shoulder. Alistair nodded. He looked a little happier.

“And I just wish…” he sighed. “I wish I had something of his, you know? Something to remember him by. But I guess that’s a lost cause, isn’t it? Just memories, now…”

“Memories are important, lethallin,” Renya said sadly. “Believe me.”

Alistair nodded again. “We should be to Redcliffe in three or four more days,” he commented, changing the subject.

***

Leliana watched the two Wardens walk silently next to each other. She sighed. Whatever had come over her needed to stop. Her eyes fell onto Renya, as they often did. What was wrong with her? On what could she base these treacherous feelings? A pair of elven ears? Facial tattoos that swirled elegantly across her forehead, drawing her gaze to the bright, twinkling green eyes, and-

“Stop it, you fool,” she muttered to herself with a shake of her head. Her heart sank when she saw Alistair grab Renya’s shoulder and the elf didn’t shake him off. There was no reason for the elf to notice her, and it was better that way. It was better for both of them.

 _It’s better this way,_ she intoned to herself, watching Alistair and Renya laugh at some private joke. _It’s better this way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little angst, but Leliana has a thing for elves, at least in this story... Her attraction is pretty baseless, as she admits herself, but we'll explore this a little more in coming chapters as to what might have drawn her so strongly and so quickly.... Thoughts so far?
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
> Or, tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	20. Nightmares and Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The taint takes our Wardens for an unexpected ride, and we learn a little more about two of the companions.

A yell startled Renya from her sleep. She jumped up from her bedroll and grabbed her sword, looking around wildly. Sten, who was on watch, turned his head toward the sound. One of the tents had collapsed, the material moving as the person inside tried to get out. Renya went over to help, and arrived in time to see Alistair clamber out from under the mess.

“Damn tent…” he muttered.

“Are you alright, Alistair?” Leliana had stuck her head out of her tent to see what the noise had been.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Alistair said, trying to keep the embarrassment from his voice. He looked up at Renya. “You were smart to sleep outside,” he grumbled. They had argued about it after leaving Lothering, and Renya had insisted that he take the tent as the senior Grey Warden. Leliana had offered to share with the elf, but she had declined. Besides, she liked sleeping outside.

Morrigan strode over from where she had set up her own tent. “Is Alistair dying?” she wanted to know. “I heard a yell…”

“No, just being attacked by inanimate objects, thank you, Morrigan,” Alistair quipped at her. Morrigan sighed. “Shouldn’t we start getting up, anyway?” Alistair asked, heaving himself to his feet. “It’s just about dawn.”

The breakfasted and began to pack up their camp, discussing their travel plans.

“We still need to travel west if we are going to Redcliffe, no?” Leliana finally asked. “I’m not sure what there is to discuss.”

Renya agreed. “Is there a castle near this town? We will be able to see it from a distance as long as we are in the general area.”

But Alistair looked uncomfortable. “I just… thought maybe…” He sighed. “Yes, alright.”

Renya looked at him curiously, but he shook his head and began to pick up his packs. The sun was a few degrees above the horizon when they set off.

“Alistair, stop staring where your eyes do not belong,” Morrigan said icily after they had traveled a while.

“I wasn’t looking at… I was staring at your nose!” Alistair protested.

“And what is it about my nose that you find so interesting?” she asked dangerously.

Alistair glared at her. “I was just thinking about how much it looks like your mother’s,” he replied, carefully enunciating each word.

“…I… _hate_ you.”

The Qunari was walking beside Renya, and the elf looked up at him. “I have a question for you, Sten.”

“I am hardly surprised.”

Renya continued, ignoring him. “What were you doing in Ferelden, anyway?”

“I was sent here by my commander.”

“Why?”

“To answer a question.”

“Did you find out the answer?”

“Yes.”

“Yet you remain in Ferelden to help me?” she asked incredulously.

“…Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why do you fight the Blight?”

“I am a Grey Warden. That is what Wardens do,” Renya replied. Sten grunted.

“I now share this duty,” he said.

“Fair enough. Will you return to your commander to give him the answer after the Blight is defeated?”

“I shall.”

Renya paused. “You are a formidable warrior, Sten.”

“As are all the Beresaad.”

“We are lucky to have you.”

“…Yes.” He looked down at her from the side of his eye. “Thank you,” he said stiffly. He turned his attention back to the road, apparently not wanting to talk anymore. Elgar came up and stood between them, and Renya suppressed a smile as Sten absentmindedly bent sideways to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “I think I shall return to my post at the end of the procession, Warden,” he said when he had straightened.

“Ma nuvenin. As you say.”

The Qunari hung back, still staring ahead with military directness but looking thoughtful all the same.

“Ugh, Warden, get this _thing_ away from me!”

Renya turned around and saw Elgar now bouncing around Morrigan, yipping at her. The Warden chuckled. “He just wants to be friends, Morrigan. He seems to like you a lot.”

“I wish he liked me less,” she grumbled. “No, I do not have any more. I told you last time…” The dog yipped again. “No, I will not be making more soon…” Another string of yips and woofs, as if Elgar was arguing with the witch.

She sighed and pulled something out of her pack. “Fine. Here, but tell no one,” Morrigan whispered, handing a piece of jerky to him.

“They say dogs know who good people are,” Leliana murmured in disbelief from behind Renya. She watched the witch, calculating.

Renya shook her head at Morrigan, who was acting like nothing had happened. “Elgar, stop bothering Morrigan. Garas. Come,” she said, holding out her hand. Elgar bounded over, barking happily.

Alistair came up next to them. “It should only be another few days, look,” he pointed. From the top of the hill they were on, they could see a castle poking out of the trees in the valley.

“Good,” Renya commented. Alistair nodded grimly. She wanted to ask him what was bothering him, but not now. Tonight, when they made camp and she could get him away from everyone else.

“So, Leliana,” Alistair said a little too cheerfully. “Tell us more about this vision that you had.”

Leliana looked at the Wardens, resigned. “I knew this was going to come up sooner or later…” She sighed. “I don’t know how to explain. But I had a dream, and in it, there was an impenetrable darkness. It was so dense, so real. And… there was a noise, a terrible un-godly noise.” She shuddered at the thought. “I stood on a peak, and watched as the darkness devoured the sun’s light. When the last of the light had been swallowed up, I… I fell, and the darkness consumed me.”

“…You dreamed of the Blight?” Alistair asked.

“I suppose I did. That would be what the darkness was, no?” she asked, looking thoughtful.

“What then?” Renya was impressed with the woman’s storytelling ability, and her accent was very pleasant to listen to.

“When I woke, I went to the Chantry’s gardens, like I always do,” she answered. “But that day, the rosebush in the corner had flowered. Now everyone knew that this rosebush was dead. It was grey, and twisted, and knarled, the ugliest thing you have ever seen. But there it was, a single beautiful red rose. It was as though the Maker had stretched out his hand to say that even in the midst of darkness, there is beauty still. Have faith.”

Renya and Alistair were silent, Alistair nodding and Renya looking at Leliana with her eyes narrowed in thought.

“…and… this made you want to help us?” Renya asked.

“In my dream, I fell… or maybe I jumped,” Leliana said slowly. She had jumped, leaving Lothering, hoping for someone to catch her... She looked at the two Wardens with new understanding. Her eyes came to rest on Renya’s, getting lost in how green they were.

“I would do anything to stop the Blight,” she said forcefully. “I know we can do it. There are so many beautiful things in the Maker’s world. How can I just stand by and watch while it is all destroyed?”

“I thought your Maker had abandoned you?” Renya said evenly. Leliana shook her head.

“He is still here,” she said confidently. “I hear him in the wind and the waves. I feel him in the sun that warms my skin.” Leliana smiled at the thought. “I know the Chantry teaches differently, but what should I believe: what I feel in my heart, or what others tell me?” Her face tightened in that odd way again, glancing between the two Wardens.

Renya arched an eyebrow at her, again surprised by this sister of the Chantry. She didn’t expect one to be so… heretical. “Believe what you want to believe, Leliana,” she said with a little shrug. It made no difference to her what these Chantry humans believed.

But Leliana smiled, looking relieved. “Thank you. It is so nice to find someone who understands. I know what I know, and no one will ever make that untrue.”

Renya nodded thoughtfully at the idea, wondering if Leliana’s words were more profound than they sounded. When Leliana bent to pet Elgar, Alistair rubbed his chin.

“But one thing I don’t understand,” he said. “What was a lay sister from Orlais doing in Ferelden to begin with?”

Leliana looked straight ahead, suddenly uncomfortable. “Serving the Chantry, of course. I go where I’m needed,” she said lightly, smiling at him. “As do we all, no?”

Renya nodded, then suddenly pressed a hand to her forehead.

“Warden? What’s wrong?” Leliana asked with concern.

“Are you supposed to get headaches?” Renya groaned.

Alistair shook his head, grimacing. “Only when there is a lot of darkspawn activity, or when the archdemon is active. The archdemon is not active yet, though. Maker, I hope,” he said blinking his eyes and lowering his hand, “But I don’t sense and darkspawn nearby, either.” He looked at Renya. “Duncan said you get used to it and it’s not so bad after a while.”

“Great.” Another wave of pain hit Renya, and she stumbled. Alistair and Leliana grabbed her, catching her before she hit the ground. “Why aren’t you like this?”

“I’ve been a Warden a little longer than you have,” he said kindly, gripping her arm tightly.

“Can I be of assistance?” Morrigan had appeared at her side and crouched down beside the Warden. She withdrew with a gasp.

“What?”

“Her eyes… They are white.”

There was a flurry of activity as Leliana rushed to remove the packs Renya was carrying while Morrigan and Alistair laid the elf on the ground gently. Sten stomped over to survey what was going on, and Elgar gave a little whimper of worry.

“What is wrong with the Warden?” Sten asked.

All eyes fell on Alistair. “I… I don’t know,” he said. “This is what happens during the Joining, but shouldn’t be happening now. Renya?” he called tentatively.

“Can’t you do anything?” Leliana turned to Morrigan. The witch sighed.

“Perhaps, but I am not sure what ails her,” she said, looking at the elf with concern. “I do not wish to harm her.”

“Try something!” Alistair and Leliana exclaimed at the same time. Morrigan sighed and knelt next to the unconscious Warden. She began murmuring to herself in a strange language.

Lelliana watched Morrigan hover over the elf.

“Oh, Maker…” Alistair groaned suddenly, clenching his eyes shut and grabbing his head.

“Alistair, are you-? Alistair!” Leliana exclaimed as the larger Warden collapsed next to Renya in a heap. Leliana and Morrigan looked at each other with matching concern.

Sten stood nearby, watching the forest, guarding the little group as Morrigan chanted. Elgar, too, stood at attention by his master’s side, watching over her. Morrigan finally stopped. Leliana looked at her anxiously.

“Are they better?”

“No,” Morrigan said shortly. “But whatever is wrong with them, they are not in any immediate danger of death.” She rose and walked a little ways away, taking things out of her pack.

Leliana sat down next to the elf and took her gloved hand in both of her own. The fingers were calloused as she expected a hunter’s would be, and she was relieved to feel that her hand was still warm. The other Warden would have looked like he was merely sleeping, she noted, if his face wasn’t twisted into such horror. The minutes slowly ticked by.

The Wardens’ breathing was ragged. Renya’s eyes were wide, white, and staring. As Leliana watched, she saw green begin to creep back into them. A moment later, with a shuddering breath, Renya closed her eyes. Her breathing returned to normal. Alistair groaned and rolled onto his back but didn’t wake up.

“Are they asleep? Good.” Morrigan had returned, holding a flask of green liquid. “Perhaps when she wakes she will be able to tell us what happened.”

“It is almost dark,” Sten said. “We will need to camp if the Wardens cannot continue.” Without waiting for a reply, he started setting up the tents. They set up a fire close to the two Wardens, and set their bedrolls inside one of the tents.

The evening meal was a somber affair, with everyone both avoiding looking at and anxiously watching the unconscious pair. As the fire burned down a little, Leliana turned to Morrigan, who was sitting next to her.

“Morrigan, I was wondering if you could help me carry the Warden into the tent?” To her surprise, Morrigan nodded without comment and rose.

A few minutes and one brief argument later, the women managed to maneuver Renya’s limp body into the tent and onto a bedroll. Sten easily arranged Alistair’s much larger form onto the bedroll next to her. Morrigan knelt and placed her hand first on Renya’s forehead, then on Alistair’s before closing her eyes and whispering to herself. She shook her head in confusion.

“And?” Leliana prompted.

“I will stay here and watch them,” Morrigan said, rather brusquely. She didn’t know when she had assumed responsibility for the elf, but she did not want the lay sister to infringe on that now. And Alistair was just unfortunately part of the equation.

“I can stay with them, Morrigan,” Leliana replied gently, not looking at her.

“Your Maker can do nothing for them,” Morrigan spat.

“You may be right, but neither can your magic, it seems.”

The two women glared at each other. Finally Morrigan rose.

“Fine. I will be outside. Right outside,” she said, staring at the sister. Leliana looked back at her, matching the coldness in her expression. “I will be back to check on them soon.” The witch left the tent in a huff and Leliana shook her head at the tent flap as it closed behind her. She returned her attention to the elf.

Leliana took Renya’s hand and rubbed the back of it with her thumb. She let her eyes wander over the Warden. They had removed her breastplate and all the armor on her arms, revealing a green tunic and arms scarred from years of hunting and, perhaps, templar raids. Her brow was knit, adding wrinkles to the markings on her forehead. A few stray hairs covered the designs, and Leliana gently brushed them away. She drew her hand back quickly when the Warden suddenly twisted her head, muttering in Dalish.

“Heruamin oh lonai imwe naine beriole,” she mumbled, looking troubled. “Mana. Ma halani, lethallin,” Then: “Ma vhenas, ma vhenas!”

Leliana hushed her, stroking the back of her hand. But now Alistair was joining her cries.

“No, stop. That’s not… you need to get back…” he mumbled, his head twisting to the side. Leliana turned and tried to brush some of his hair off his forehead, damp with sweat and furrowed in worry.

“Falon’din…” the elf murmured sadly. Leliana startled and turned around again, recognizing the name. “Ma ghilana mir din’an…”

“No,” Leliana whispered, leaning close to the elf’s pointed ear. “No, Warden. No… Renya… Don’t…”

“Everything is dead… no… everything. It’s not right… What do we do? What do we do?” Alistair insisted, thrashing around a little. Leliana pulled out a small cloth and wiped away some of the sweat beading on his forehead. He relaxed.

The elf sighed. “Ame amin noamin…” And she, too, fell still.

Unnerving quiet settled in the tent. Leliana bent over the elf again, now listening to make sure she was still breathing. With a start, she realized how close she was to the elf’s face.

Without warning, Renya opened her eyes and Leliana froze. It took the Warden a moment to focus on the woman leaning over her, before yelling in surprise and trying to sit up and pull away. She was unsuccessful, and groaned in pain, holding her head. Without thinking, Leliana grabbed the elf’s shoulders to steady her. Alistair woke with a start and looked around wildly.

“Is everything alright?” Morrigan asked, coming in to the tent. She surveyed the scene, her eyes flashing. “What did you do?”

“I…”

“Nothing,” Renya said thickly. She squinted at Morrigan.

“What… what time is it?” Alistair demanded, holding his head. “What happened?”

“We were hoping you would be able to tell us once you awoke,” Morrigan said. “You lost consciousness. In the middle of the afternoon,” she added helpfully, seeing Renya look out of the open flap into the night.

“Your eyes turned white,” Leliana said, still holding onto the Warden. “Do you remember anything?”

Renya closed her eyes, trying to remember. She opened them. “I had a headache. Alistair did not. And now I am here.”

“Don’t worry,” Alistair said with a wry smile. “I decided to join in. It looked like so much fun.”

Renya managed a wavering chuckle.

“You were speaking in Dalish, too,” Leliana commented. Renya frowned an gave a little shrug, as if unconcerned.

A soft bark came from the side of the tent next to Renya.

“Ir abelas, Elgar,” she said. “There is no more room.” She heard a little whimper, and then the side of the tent moved as the dog lay down as close to it as possible.

“Something was talking to me in the darkness,” Renya began without preamble, staring at the ground. “It was saying that there is only fire and death in the future. And then I saw my home… destroyed. It was burning, and everyone was dead. I… I saw a city,” she continued, frowning. “It was burning. People were running, screaming for help. Fledglings were dead.”

She looked up at Alistair hopelessly. “I knew it was my fault.” She shook her head and sat quietly, staring at the ground, unaware of the hands still on her shoulders and the anxious faces looking at her.

“I saw that, too,” Alistair said quietly. “I was in a castle. There were… women, and children. All… all dead. I only… I knew it had been my duty to protect them, and… if there was something I could do…”

The Wardens looked at each other, trying to read the other’s mind. Leliana felt immediately uncomfortable, watching the Wardens stare into each other’s eyes. She felt disappointed and then guilty at her selfishness.

As one, Renya and Alistair sighed. The group looked at each other awkwardly.

“Perhaps rest?” Morrigan suggested, breaking the silence.

“Yes, rest.” Alistair said. “As much as I like your company,” he added awkwardly, blushing as he looked at Renya. “I think… my own tent…just for... you know…”

Leliana frowned.

But Renya laughed. “Ma nuvenin, lethallin.”

He rose carefully, bid them goodnight, and exited the tent, leaving the women alone inside.

“You were kind enough to watch the Wardens, I will relieve you,” Morrigan said loftily.

“It is no trouble,” Leliana replied, unconscious of how tightly she was gripping Renya. “I know you like your space, Morrigan.”

Morrigan huffed and was about to reply when Renya held up her hand. “Leliana owes me a story, Morrigan,” she began. Leliana looked very pleased and tried to not look at Morrigan. “…unless you are willing to tell me one?”

“A story? ‘Tis an odd request, indeed,” said Morrigan. “But, if you insist, I shall,” she added. “I care not what you ask.” And she sat.

Renya hadn’t expected that. She expected Morrigan to leave and then she would have somehow convinced Leliana to go, as well. She really just wanted to be by herself. Instead, Leliana was still perched next to her, arm around her shoulders protectively, and Morrigan had taken up a seat beside her, looking at her intently.

“…and I am not going to fall over, Leliana. You can let go now,” Renya said as gently as she could manage. Leliana released her, feeling self-conscious.

“You would like to hear a story,” Morrigan said presently. “Of what shall I tell? The stories my mother told me as a girl were not pleasant, to say the least.”

“Is Flemeth all that she seems to be?” Renya asked. Morrigan shrugged.

“That depends. What does she seem to be?”

“A crazy old woman,” Renya said with a smile.

Morrigan laughed. “Yes.”

“What was it like growing up with her?”

Morrigan’s smile faded. “’Twas a hard life, growing up in the Wilds,” she began sadly. “And I was a curious child. One day, I had wandered far from home and came to a town. I had never seen such a thing before! And so many people! I saw a cart piled high with silks, fabrics, and beautiful trinkets. The woman it belonged to was tall and elegant, and I thought to myself, This is the epitome of wealth and beauty! I followed her, and saw on that magnificent cart a mirror, and I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. It was gold, and had a scene of nature depicted on the back in metals and precious gems. So, I followed her, and when she wasn’t looking, I took it. I clutched it to my chest, pleased to possess such a beautiful thing, and ran back home to Mother.”

“Very daring,” Renya said, raising her eyebrows. “That sounds like you.” Morrigan giggled in a very uncharacteristic way. It made her seem much younger than her usual haughty attitude did.

“Perhaps equal parts daring and foolhardy, I imagine.”

“But daring nonetheless,” Renya replied with a smile as Leliana glanced away. “What happened then?”

Morrigan was silent for a moment. “Mother was furious,” she said sadly. “She lectured me on the dangers of humans and their towns, and… she was disappointed that I would risk capture for a trinket. To teach me a lesson, she took the mirror from me and smashed it upon the ground…”

“That’s horrible!” Leliana exclaimed, her head snapping back up. Morrigan looked at her seriously.

“’Twas for the best, I see now…”

“But you were just a little girl,” Renya commented indignantly.

“Yes,” Morrigan agreed slowly. “But life is hard. It was good to end those silly childish dreams.”

“Morrigan…”

“I sometimes wonder,” the witch continued reflectively, cutting Renya off. “What would have become of that little girl with the mirror...” She stared at the ground. “There, you have your story,” she said, her voice suddenly sounding more like herself. “Now, rest. I shall see you on the morrow.” She rose and left the tent swiftly without another word.

“Poor Morrigan,” Leliana said when the witch had gone. Renya nodded slowly. Leliana looked at her carefully. “Do I still owe you a story?” she asked with a smile. “I would be happy to tell one.”

“I would prefer to rest,” Renya said as kindly as she could, leaning back on her bedroll. “What are you doing?”

Leliana had followed her and was lying on her side looking at her, ignoring the pulse of shock that went through her at her daring.

“You shouldn’t be by yourself, silly.”

Renya shook her head. “I am fine, Leliana. Really.”

A small frown passed over the woman’s face. She stared at the elf, calculating. “You forget you are in my tent, Warden. I have to stay here.”

The Warden looked at her. “Right,” she said, getting up. Leliana sat up, puzzled. Renya rolled up her bedroll and started to exit the tent.

“Where are you going?”

“This is your tent, as you said. I do not want to intrude,” Renya said. Leliana followed her outside.

“That’s not what I meant!”

“…goodnight, Leliana,” Renya replied before walking to the other side of the fire. She set up her bedroll, lay down, and turned on her side, facing away from the rest of the camp, leaving Leliana very disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about Renya's Dalish: she's lamenting the destruction of her home and being "the one who survives"... Not really integral to know what all the words mean, as she sums up her dream, but just in case you were wondering!
> 
> Also, I really like this story from Morrigan, as it really humanizes her and sets the stage for some upcoming events. Next time we might actually make it to Redcliffe!
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
> Or, say hello and tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	21. Entering Redcliffe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wardens and their company make it to Redcliffe, but don't receive the greeting they had expected.

As the village of Redcliffe loomed closer, Alistair became more anxious. He had tried to convince them to take another day to rest for Renya’s sake, but Renya had missed the hint and insisted that she felt fine. Then he had suggested hunting and drying more meat for travel purposes, but Morrigan commented they could not possibly carry more than they already were. And then he had tried to purposefully get them lost, but with the castle right in front of them he just wound up looking stupid. And so they walked on. They came up to the village in the middle of the afternoon.

He cleared his throat. “Renya,” he called, interrupting her conversation with Morrigan. The elf looked up. “Could I talk to you for a minute?” He caught the witch’s look. “It’s for some super-secret Grey Warden stuff that only Grey Wardens can know about.”

Renya blinked at him, but nodded and excused herself. Alistiar motioned for them to walk a little bit further down the path, away from the others.

“What is wrong?” Renya asked.

“Wrong? Why would anything be wrong?” He glanced at Renya and sighed. “Okay, so remember how I said I was a bastard and didn’t know who my father was? Well, I do. He was King Maric.” He paused, waiting for a reaction.

Renya was confused. That made him Cailan’s half-brother? Now that she knew that, she wondered how she hadn’t seen the similarities earlier.

“So, you are a prince?” Her eyes widened. “No, you are the new king!”

“No. No no no no no,” protested Alistair, waving his hands in front of him. “I’m just Alistair. But the reason I’m saying all this…” He took a deep breath. “Arl Eamon took care of me when I was little. I worked as a servant here until Eamon’s wife began to suspect I was his. She had me sent away to the Chantry.” He cleared his throat. “Eamon came to visit me all the time, and I was… so rude to him. I had a necklace of my mother’s, it had an amulet on it, very pretty, and the only thing I had of hers. I threw it at him one day… and it shattered. He never came to visit me again,” He sighed. “Anyway, Eamon knows I’m Maric’s son, and will want to set me up as the next king, but I don’t want that!”

“Why not? You would-”

“Because I’m just Alistair!” he said, his voice rising. “I like being a Grey Warden. Everywhere I’ve gone I’ve been treated differently… even Duncan wouldn’t let me in the final battle.”

“It was Cailan who…”

“I’ve either been coddled as the king’s son or treated poorly as a bastard,” he finished angrily. “And I’m Alistair. Just Alistair. That’s all I want to be.”

Renya looked at him, unsure what to say.

“Anyway, I just wanted you to know. I didn’t want you to be surprised by this if he brought it up. And I wanted to make sure nothing… nothing changed between us, that… you’d be on my side.”

“Of course, lethallin,” Renya said seriously.

“Thanks. I just want things to stay the way they are.” They turned and started walking back to the group.

“Yes, Just Alistair… my prince,” Renya said with a grin, batting her eyes at him and poking him in the shoulder.

Alistair groaned. “This is what I was afraid of…”

***

They were at the village’s limits within the hour. A man saw them and ran up. “I thought I saw travelers coming. Have you come to help us?”

“Help you with what?” Renya asked. “Is there a problem in the village?” She kept her face neutral as she saw his glance dart up to her forehead and out to the tips of her pointed ears before settling back on her face. She also ignored - but noticed - the indignant noise that came from Leliana’s throat.

“You don’t know? Does no one out there know?” he cried, forlorn.

“Know what?” Alistair asked. “Tell us what has happened.”

With that, the man was off. “Monsters have attacked the village! Every night, they come out of the castle. Monsters… walking corpses…” he shuddered. “We’re all but wiped out! And we’ve had no word from anyone inside the castle. It’s been all Bann Teagan can do to maintain order…”

“Apparently everyone seems to agree that a Blight is a perfect time to start attacking one another. Marvelous, really,” Morrigan quipped. Alistair ignored her while Renya tried to hide her smile.

“Bann Teagan is here?” he asked. “Eamon’s brother?”

“I’ll take you to him, he’ll want to meet you, ser.”

“Thank you,” Renya interjected, seeing Alistair shrink at the thought.

“Warden,” Leliana said quietly, coming up beside her as they walked down the hill into the village. “I-”

“Renya,” the elf said without looking at her. Leliana blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

“Renya. Call me Renya.”

The lay sister smiled, her heart fluttering a little. “Yes. Of course… Renya.” She continued walking silently, lost in her thoughts.

“Was there something you wanted?” Renya asked a few quiet moments later.

“What? Oh!” Leliana shook her head. “I feel so silly. I just…” She frowned. “You know, now I don’t remember…”

Renya raised her eyebrows, for a moment reminded of Merrill getting lost in her thoughts. She smiled at the memory. “Ma nuvenin…”

A few minutes later they were brought to a large stone building in the center of the town. There had been a slight hesitation at the door. Renya had not wanted to enter a Chantry building, and Morrigan had offered to stay outside with her. Sten had likewise refused, stating that he wanted to stand as far away from “the bas” as he possibly could, indicating the two templar at the door. But Alistair had looked so absolutely lost that eventually Renya conceded and entered the building, back stiff and ears pricked up, like an animal on alert for an attack.

“The Maker’s not going to hurt you, Renya,” Leliana murmured to her as they entered, suppressing a smile at how nice the name felt as she said it. Meanwhile, a few templar heads turned and watched Renya’s progress through the building, the grips on their swords tightening.

“Your Maker is not who I am worried about,” Renya admitted just as quietly, pulling Leliana from her thoughts. With a furtive glance around the building, Leliana noticed the templars’ gazes following them and she stepped a little closer to the elf so that their shoulders bumped as they walked. They made their way to a side room, where a man with brown hair and kind eyes was standing.

“Travelers to see you, ser,” their guide said, bowing.

The bann turned. “Thank you Tomas, you’ve done well. Return to your post.” He looked at his guests. Renya stood in front, followed by Morrigan and Leliana. Alistair appeared to be trying to blend in with the crowd.

“Welcome, friends,” the man said. “I am Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere, brother to the Arl.”

“I remember you, Bann Teagan,” Alistair said with as little enthusiasm as possible. “But the last time we saw each other, I was much smaller… and covered in mud.”

“Covered in mud…? Alistair?” Teagan asked, his face brightening. “By the Maker, look at you! You’re alive! This is wonderful news!”

“Still alive, yes. But not for long if Teryn Loghain has anything to say about it…”

“Indeed,” Teagan said darkly. “Loghain would have us all believe that all the Wardens had perished with my nephew, among… other things…”

“No, not all of us died,” Renya said quietly. Teagan turned his attention onto her.

“You are a Grey Warden, as well?” he asked with surprise.

“Yes,” Renya affirmed, trying to smile. After all, this was a relative of Alistair’s, she reminded herself.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady, although I wish it was under better circumstances. I am at your service,” he said with a smile – startling Renya – and extending his hand. It was palm-up, different than what Leliana had done. She glanced at Alistair, lost and confused. He mimed what she was supposed to do as surreptitiously as he could. She extended her hand slowly, and the bann took it and brought it to his lips, but didn’t kiss it. She watched the strange greeting without comment. He released her and smiled at the look on her face.

“I take it this is not a Dalish greeting? Apologies, my lady, I hope I haven’t offended you,” he commented politely. Renya chuckled self-consciously.

“Not at all, Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere,” she said, smiling awkwardly. “I find myself still learning human customs.” She had finally found one that she rather liked.

“Please, just Teagan. And yes, there are so many customs, and different ones in different parts of Ferelden,” he agreed. She inwardly groaned at the thought.

“I see.” She wished someone else would start talking.

“No doubt you wish to see my brother?” Teagan asked, addressing the group. “Unfortunately, that might be a problem. He is gravely ill, and no one has heard from the castle in days. There are no guards on patrol, and no one has answered my shouts. And no doubt you have heard of the monsters that come out of the castle at night… I fear for the worst.”

“What of these creatures?” Renya asked.

“The men have started calling them the waking dead, for that is what they appear to be,” the bann replied. “We have been able to hold them off, but our numbers are decreasing and our armor and weapons are badly in need of repair or replacement. Alistair,” he said, turning to the man still trying to hide behind the much-shorter Leliana. “I hate to ask this of you, but we need your help direly. Would you be able to stay and help us? I fear tonight will be the worst night yet, and… I am worried for my brother.”

Alistair looked at Renya, who shrugged and nodded toward Teagan. This was his family, after all. And the Wardens needed Arl Eamon.

“Yes, of course, Teagan.”

“Wonderful! Thank you!” Teagan said gratefully. “This is wonderful news and means more to me that I can say. The mayor here, Murdock, will want to speak with you. And Alistair?” He smiled. “It’s good to have you back.”

Alistair excused himself, muttering about finding the mayor, and Leliana, with a nod from Renya, went with him, looking worried.

“So you do not believe Loghain’s lies, Teagan?” Renya asked as they walked away.

Teagan shook his head. “What, that he pulled his men to save them? That Cailan risked everything in the name of glory?” He scoffed. “Hardly! Loghain called the Wardens traitors, murderers of the king. I don’t believe it; it is the action of a desperate man.”

“But my lord,” interrupted a guard standing nearby. “Reports from the field said the battle was hopeless, and Loghain wished to preserve the lives of his men.”

“Nonsense,” Teagan muttered with a wave of his hand. “Why agree to march to battle at all, then? So many were counting on him, my nephew – your king – included. Kindly do not forget what was lost that day.”

The soldier looked away. “Yes, my lord.” He glanced at Renya. “Apologies, Ser Warden.”

Renya nodded, glad the bann was on their side and the soldiers were at least showing them courtesy. “Is there anyone else in the castle with the Arl?” she asked. Eventually they would be going there, she was sure.

The bann nodded. “The arlessa - Eamon’s wife - and Connor, their son,” he said. “Of course, servants and guards as well, but my concern is for my brother and his family.”

“Your family did not come with you?”

Teagan looked at her with a small smile. “I… do not have a family,” he admitted. “I am not married. I… never had the pleasure.”

Renya nodded, already thinking about how to save three humans from a castle full of undead creatures.

“If I did, I’d be lucky to find a woman as… lovely as yourself,” the bann continued softly.

Renya’s eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. Well then. “Flatterer,” she said.

Teagan smiled. “If I may be so bold… what of you, my lady? Are you married?”

“I am a Dalish elf,” she commented with a smile, sidestepping the question and aware once again of her accent.

“Dalish elves can marry, can they not?”

“They can, if the man is brave enough,” Renya said good-humoredly. This was getting out of hand. Besides, Dalish did not bond themselves to humans.

“I can think of several reasons for a man to be so brave. But I am too bold, my lady. This is hardly the time for such banter. Please accept my… apology,” Teagan said with a small nod toward her.

“Why apologize? I am not offended.”

“You are too kind, my lady.” He paused. “Amongst other things.”

Morrigan coughed behind them. “Perhaps we should speak of something else,” Renya suggested, suppressing a smile.

“Good. Then perhaps my secrets are still safe,” Teagan commented playfully. A servant came up to them.

“My Lord, Owen will still not open his shop,” he said urgently. Teagan sighed.

“Murdock still has not convinced him to help? We need him to repair the men’s armor.”

“No, ser. He has barred the door and is refusing to speak to anyone,” the servant replied.

“I can try to talk to him,” Renya suggested. It was a good of a reason as any to leave.

Bann Teagan looked at her gratefully. “If you wouldn’t mind, that would be most helpful. Please,” he added. “I never heard your name.”

“Renya,” the elf supplied.

“Renya,” the man repeated. “Thank you for your help, my lady, and I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

“Good day, Teagan.”

She turned on her heel and left the Chantry. Morrigan walked next to her, shaking her head. Renya grinned at her as the exited, the doors swinging shut behind them.

“What?”

“Why?” Morrigan countered.

“Why not?” Renya said with a laugh. “I wanted to know how many people were at risk, and then he did… that.” She looked over her shoulder. “Poor man. He is very nice, but not for me,” she added.

“Not brave enough?”

Renya gave her a look. “He is…” she trailed off and shrugged, catching the witch’s eye. “…and he is human.” Morrigan looked at her, then nodded crisply.

“There are the rest of our companions,” she said, changing the subject.

The mayor, too, wanted the blacksmith to open his doors, so Renya found herself pouding on a wooden door a few minutes later. The man inside proved very disagreeable, and Renya felt her blood pressure rising as she tried to persuade the man to open the door. Eventually she had enough.

“Open this door or I will break it down!” she bellowed, pounding the door with her fist for emphasis.

“Alright, alright, no need to get so angry,” the man said. Renya rubbed her vallaslin, tracing a line from her forehead to the tip of her nose and back again. She heard him fiddling with the locks, and the door swung open, engulfing the party in a disgusting smell.

“Phew, it smells like a distillery caught fire,” Leliana commented as they entered.

“Somebody’s been drinking,” Alistair replied in a sing-song voice.

“I’ve let you in,” Owen grunted, arms folded. “Now mind telling me what you want?”

Renya was still angry from the altercation at the door. “The town has been under attack for days, and needs its armor repaired,” she began, her accent thicker as she spat the words out.

“What do I care?” the man asked, holding his crossed arms more defiantly in front of him. “I have equipment. I’ll be fine. Maybe I don’t even want to live in this awful village anymore.” Renya gritted her teeth.

“You would let all those people die?” she demanded furiously. “No, you _will_ repair their armor or _I_ will-”

But Leliana interrupted her.

“We desperately need your help, ser,” she said gently, stepping past Alistair and Renya, ignoring their stares.

“My name is Leliana, and I am helping the Grey Wardens…”

“Grey Wardens?” the man grumbled. His eyes swept over Renya. “Takes all kinds, I suppose.” Renya twitched her eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” Leliana said sweetly, walking closer to the smith. The man finally noticed Leliana’s Chantry robes and relaxed a little. Seeing this, she smiled and sat next to him.

“The military needs your skills, Owen, and –”

“Why should I help Murdock when he won’t help me, Sister?” the blacksmith demanded, tears beginning to leak from his eyes as he looked into the Chantry sister’s face imploringly. Renya and Alistair shared a look, but Leliana seemed unfazed.

“What’s wrong?” She sounded genuinely concerned.

“My daughter Valena is a maid of the arlessa’s, and she’s stuck up in the castle with those monsters! I asked Murdock to look for her when they invaded the castle, but he said no! He said they weren’t going for the castle! Ever since my wife died, my little girl is all I have left!” he cried. Leliana reached out and held the man’s arm.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she murmured soothingly. She pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket without him noticing and handed it to him. He blew his nose loudly.

“If you go look for my little girl,” he said, his voice wavering. “I’ll reopen the smithy and fix all the armor they want.”

Leliana glanced at Renya who nodded almost imperceptibly. They needed this man to arm the town for the attack tonight.

“I promise we’ll look for her, ser,” she said soothingly, still holding his arm.

“Not good enough!” The man was irate in his worry. “That doesn’t mean anything to me. Promise me… promise me you’ll look for her and… and you’ll bring her back if you can.”

“Of course,” Leliana replied smoothly. “We will look for her and bring her back if we can.”

“That’s alright then. I’ll accept that. It’s something to hope for, at least. Alright,” he said with a sniffle, straightening up. Leliana released his arm. “I guess I’ve got some work to do, then?”

“Oh, goody!” Morrigan said sarcastically. “Next we will be saving kittens from trees, won’t we?”

“We are indebted to you, ser,” Leliana said with a kind smile, ignoring the apostate. “We’ll leave you to your work. Maker’s blessings on you.”

“And you, Sister. Thank you. Maker help you all.”

With another kind smile, Leliana walked out of the smithy. The two Wardens watched her go, staring at her with their mouths open.

“Um,” Renya said weakly, turning back to the blacksmith. “Would you happen to have armor that would be the right size for my friend?” She gestured toward Sten.

“Huh, big fella, aren’t you?” The man scratched his beard, obviously in a better mood than when they had first entered the smithy. “I might have something for you.” He went into a closet and the group heard a crash, followed by a string of swears. He clomped out with a set of armor and a large, two-handed sword. Thankfully, the armor was a perfect fit, and Renya wondered briefly where he had come across such a large set.

“No, no cost,” the man said, waving his hand when she removed her coin purse. “Just bring my Valena back.” They thanked him profusely and left.

“… what just happened?” Renya asked Leliana when they rejoined her and Elgar outside. Leliana smiled enigmatically.

“I convinced that poor man to help the town, weren’t you watching me?” she asked playfully.

“You… he…” Renya shook her head.

“And that’s why I decided that I should do the talking,” Leliana observed with a chuckle.

“That was amazing,” Alistair mumbled.

Only Morrigan seemed unimpressed. “And now we are stuck with another useless task to inhibit us from our true quest,” she complained.

“Morale is important, Morrigan,” Renya said. Surprisingly, Sten agreed.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “But I should think that duty would be motivation enough. I will never understand humans,” he concluded. Renya nodded in agreement before she could stop herself.

“Warden!” A man ran up to Alistair. “…and company,” he added politely, nodding to the rest of the group. “Thank you for your help. Even drunk, Owen does amazing work, and we will be well equipped for this evening. We’ve amassed a large amount of weapons that need sorting, which I need to oversee. But we still need to solidify our plan for this evening. If you could kindly go up to the peak and speak with Ser Perth about the arrangements for tonight, it would be most appreciated.”

“Of course, Murdock,” Alistair said.

“Warden, I do not care to speak with any bas templar,” Sten rumbled at Renya as the mayor hurried off to oversee the sorting of weaponry. “Do I have your permission to stay and assist the humans with the sorting? Perhaps they can learn something from the Beresaad.”

“Yes, Sten. You know, I think I may join you, as well. We do not all need to go and talk to this Ser Perth…”

“What?” Alistair said swiftly. “Yes we do. At least, _you_ do. You need to come up and speak to him. What am I to say?”

Renya sighed. “Lethallin, you were a templar and are a Warden. You know more about battle planning than I do. And I doubt he will take orders from a Dalish, anyway.”

“I do,” Alistair said stoutly.

Morrigan scoffed. “Yes, you do, even though you are the senior Warden. Yet you are content to follow a new recruit.”

“I prefer following, thank you. There is nothing wrong with that,” Alistair said defensively. “I lead, and we wind up lost, people die, and then I’m standing somewhere alone without my pants on…”

“Just go and see what he wants,” Renya interrupted before Alistair could hurt his cause further. She rubbed her vallaslin. “If he is really mean to you, I will come up and… yell at him in Dalish or something.”

Morrigan laughed. “Come, Alistair. I will accompany you and offer you my opinion on any matters about which you are unsure.”

“Oh goody,” Alistair said without emotion.

The elf turned to Leliana. “Make sure they do not kill each other, please?”

Leliana chuckled and turned to the two other humans who were still arguing. “Of course.” She left, plucking at Alistair’s elbow to make him follow her.

He and Morrigan continued arguing all the way up the hill until at last Renya couldn’t hear them anymore. She and Sten walked over to the pile of weapons. It was enormous: swords, axes, bows and arrows, all muddled together in a mass of brown and grey.

“Our companions,” Sten said, looking at Renya with interest. “They are…” he seemed at a loss for words.

“Yes, they are,” Renya agreed, sitting down. Sten sat down beside her. Elgar came over and curled up next to her, and she absentmindedly patted his head.

“We’ll put the good ones here, Murdock, and the ones that need repairs over there,” said a familiar voice. “Ah, Renya!” Bann Teagan had come out of the Chantry building to assist with preparations. “And…?” He looked at Sten curiously.

“Sten,” Renya introduced. “Of the Beresaad.” Teagan seemed impressed, and Renya silently breathed a sigh of relief that he was so accepting.

“Qunari,” he said. “You are mighty warriors and have my respect.” Sten looked up at him in shock before resetting his features to their usual unreadable expression. “Welcome to Redcliffe. Are you both here to help sort out this mess?”

“Yes,” Sten said. “Humans do not have the same eye for weaponry as the qunari, so I will be overseeing this task.”

Teagan nodded slightly, not knowing how to take the comment. Renya intervened.

“I am not the only one who does not understand humans, Teagan,” she offered. He smiled.

“I would be glad for your assistance, Sten of the Beresaad,” the bann said politely. And with that they set to work.

Barely ten minutes had passed when Alistair, Morrigan, and Leliana returned from their chat with Ser Perth. They were all arguing. Sten ignored them, but Renya looked up at the sound.

“’Tis just a token, who cares if it truly brings luck or not?” Morrigan was saying. “If they believe that they are protected, they will fight like they are protected.”

“But the Maker doesn’t work through medallions. I can’t believe a templar would think that!” Leliana protested.

“And where does he expect us to get that many medallions to outfit his whole guard?” Alistair grumbled. Leliana turned on him.

“This is not a logistical matter, Alistair. This is lying using the Maker’s name!”

“Your Maker seems to care little about what his creations do,” Morrigan countered. “If he exists at all, he is awfully silent. Why should he care about this?”

“The Maker has not abandoned us!” Leliana replied hotly. “Just because some believe He is gone, doesn’t mean He is!” She glared at the witch. “And either way, that does not give us permission to lie and pretend our wishes are His!”

“Do you not wish to end this battle here? Or perhaps more innocent people should die as we wait for the Maker to decide whether he should rise up off of whatever divine cloud he is on and stick his divine nose into his creation’s business?” Morrigan was speaking more evenly as the other two became increasingly upset.

Renya left them to their bickering. She rose and walked to the Chantry, not believing what she was about to do. She took a deep breath and pushed open the wooden door. Even the elf’s almost-silent footsteps echoed around the large sanctuary, and she was again very aware of the many templar watching her. She approached the altar and saw an older woman, who she supposed was in charge – a Revered Mother, Leliana had called the one in Lothering - sitting in a room off to the side, looking at an enormous tome. Steeling herself, Renya walked over to the room and knocked on the doorframe to announce her presence.

“Oh!” the woman said, looking up. She smiled “Come in, dear.” Renya entered slowly, and noticed the woman’s gaze flit up to her forehead. She looked surprised, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she pulled up another chair and offered it to the elf, who sat stiffly. The Revered Mother resumed her own seat.

“What brings you to the Chantry, my child?”

Now that she was here, Renya really had no idea what she was going to say. “My friend is a lay sister,” she began. It was the first thing she thought of. She ignored the woman’s surprise and continued. “And speaks highly of your Maker.” The Mother smiled at that. “You have noticed I am Dalish, and I do not believe in the same gods as you.” The Mother nodded slowly, not sure where the conversation was going. “However, my friend appears to think that the Shantri brings hope to people, although this has never been the case for mine.”

She heard mailed footsteps approach behind her, but the Revered Mother looked over Renya’s shoulder and shook her head, making a “shoo”-ing motion with her hand. The mailed feet retreated.

Renya continued. “There is going to be a battle tonight. I hope the Shantri will be ready to support those who are injured and in need of help after it is over.”

“Of course, my child,” the Mother said.

“Good.” The elf reached into her purse and took out three sovereigns. “To help with the effort,” she said, placing them on the table next to them, remembering how Master Ilen had placated a templar with coin once, years ago. The Revered Mother looked at them in surprise.

“Thank you,” she said, stunned at the wealth and generosity the elf possessed. But now that she thought about it, wasn’t this elf wearing the insignia of the Grey Wardens? The Mother studied the creature in front of her thoughtfully.

“Now there are some templar who will be fighting this evening. A Ser Perth…”

The Mother sighed. “Yes, he has asked for much support from me, but I’m afraid that there is nothing more I can do.”

Renya nodded. “He is asking for blessed medallions, something to carry in to battle to show the Maker is with them.” But the Revered Mother shook her head.

“I cannot do this for him,” she said. “It would be dishonest. I do not know if the Maker is with them or not. It is said the Maker has left this world; how can I offer that kind of solace if I cannot be sure of its source?”

“I always thought,” Renya said carefully, “that it was not what you had faith in that was so important, but rather that you simply had faith.”

The Revered Mother looked thoughtful. “I admit I never thought I would discuss faith with a Dalish elf,” she commented reflectively.

“Believe me, I never thought I would ever be in a Shantri building talking to a Shantri Mother, either,” the Dalish elf replied with a smile. The Revered Mother sat for a few more silent moments, considering, then she rose and opened a cabinet built into the wall.

She took out a few medallions and other tokens and laid them on the table next to Renya’s sovereigns. Laying her hands on them, she indicated that Renya should stand. Bristling a little at the thought of having to take part in a Chantry prayer, she rose.

“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter,” the Revered Mother began. Renya closed her eyes, her stomach tying itself into a knot.

_The fledgling stood before the templar with wide terrified eyes as he bore down on her._

“Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just…”

_Merrill was there, collecting the little girl, staring at Renya with anxiety as the hunter hung on to the enraged templar and cursed herself for not grabbing her daggers._

“Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow…”

_Renya was lying on the ground with a templar standing above her, sword raised._

“…In their blood the Maker’s will is written.”

_The blade buried itself in her abdomen._

Renya opened her eyes. She felt a tear trickle out of her eye and wiped it away quickly before the Chantry Mother turned.

“Here you are, dear,” the Mother said kindly. “Your faith could serve as a lesson to many.” She looked more closely at the elf. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Renya said, her voice sounding harsher than she meant it to be. She cleared her throat. “Yes, Revered Mother of the Shantri,” she added, her voice a little calmer. She took the medals. “Ma serannas. Thank you. You will help many people with these.”

“I hope so, dear. Maker’s blessings on you. May He watch over you.”

Renya stared at the woman, unsure.

The Mother smiled. “Usually people say, ‘May He watch over us all,’” she said, trying to be helpful.

“Yes. May your Maker watch over you as well, Revered Mother of the Shantri.” She nodded to the older woman and turned smartly, walking back out of the sanctuary much more quickly than she had entered it.

She flung open the doors and stepped out into the sun, breathing heavily, her memories still screaming in her mind as her pulse hammered in her neck. She looked over to the large weapon pile, meticulously being sorted through by Sten, Teagan, and a few other men from Redcliffe. Her other three companions were still arguing. Grumbling to herself, she stomped over.

“And you use magic!” Leliana was saying to Morrigan. “How can you not believe in –”

“That is different,” Morrigan replied flippantly. “Magic is something you can see, can touch. It is something you can control –”

“Oh, control, yes,” spat Alistair, angrier than Renya had ever seen him. “That’s all it ever is with you, isn’t it? Control…”

“Here!” Renya said forcefully, thrusting the medallions into the middle of the group. It had the desired effect. Everyone stopped talking.

“What are these?” Alistair asked.

Leliana took one and turned it over in her hand. “They’re medallions. Tokens from the Chantry…” she said incredulously. She looked at the fuming elf. “Where did you get these?”

“I went to your precious Chantry and asked for them,” Renya spat, the harsher human pronunciation capturing her anger better than the Dalish word.

“Why? You didn’t have to do that.” Leliana’s tone was instantly gentle.

“I thought I would solve your problem for you,” the elf replied, her voice rising and her accent thick as she began to speak faster. “Now there is no issue. A heathen talked to an old woman who said some words over a few pieces of metal. If someone believes that that actually means something, let them, so long as it _ends this pointless arguing and we win the battle tonight!_ ”

She threw the medallions at their feet and stalked off. Teagan and Sten watched her go, the former concerned and the latter intrigued. Elgar tried to follow his master but she waved him off and he slunk back and sat next to Sten dejectedly. The three humans watched her leave with varying degrees of shame and anxiety.

“See that? Now you’ve gone and upset her,” Alistair commented, still frustrated with the other two.

“All I suggested was –”

“Enough,” Leliana said quietly. She picked the medallions up off the ground, looked at them briefly, and then at the quickly retreating elf. “Alistair,” she continued just as softly. “Please give these to Ser Perth. Have them distributed to as many men as he is able.”

Alistair took the medallions, tight-lipped, and obediently turned and began walking up the hill.

“And Morrigan…”

“Do not think you can give orders to me so easily, sister of the Chantry,” Morrigan said dryly.

“No. I just want to tell you that I am sorry,” Leliana said seriously. “We will be traveling together and… I am sorry. I should not have yelled at you.”

“I…” Morrigan looked at her with great confusion. “I accept your apology. We…” She hesitated. “We will not speak of this again. Is that acceptable to you?”

Leliana supposed that was as close to an apology as she would get from Morrigan. “Yes, and if we do speak of it again, I will not become so upset.”

“’Tis a fair thing to say, and I shall say the same,” Morrigan replied in a lilting voice. “For the sake of our Warden, if nothing else,” she added, watching the elf, who was now quite far away, close to the lake. She appeared to be throwing something at a tree. “Perhaps you should go talk to her. I have witnessed the silver tongue you possess. ‘Tis an interesting trait of a Chantry sister, is it not?”

“It is,” Leliana said. She followed after the elf without any further comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made it to Redcliffe! And poor Renya is reminded of all the reasons she hates humans even as she tries to help them...
> 
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	22. The Battle and What Came of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle for Redcliffe is upon us! But first Leliana needs to convince Renya to return to the village.

“Len’alas lath’din aeno’Shantri!” Renya grunted, hurling her hunting knife at one of the few trees near the bank of Lake Calenhad, imagining it to be a templar standing guard. It hit its mark and she strode over and yanked it out again. “Fenedhis!” she cried, hurling the blade again. Again she removed it from the tree, and then stomped further away. “The Maker accepts all. Hah! Dirthara’ma!” Another throw, another retrieval. Images of the attacking templar filled her mind, and that Chant, that incessant, seth’lin _Chant_.

“Fenedhis lasa!” she bellowed, hurling the knife again. It missed. Another string of Dalish curses flowed out of the elf as she went to pick it up. Instead of throwing it again, she continued striding forward until she was at the edge of the water. Her cursing continued to rise in volume until she was just standing in the sand and screaming at the top of her lungs. She fell to her knees and put her head in her hands, bowing toward the cool water in front of her.

“Nuvenin ven ma vhenas… ma vhenas…” she murmured to herself. “I want to go home…”

Soft footsteps were coming up behind her, and her ears twitched in the direction of the sound. The person was still far off, so Renya remained as she was for a few more seconds before rising. She kept her back to the sound, listening to the steps that were almost as quiet as an elf’s.

“I do not know why you followed me, but I would suggest returning to the village,” she called, still not turning around as the steps came still closer. The light footsteps hesitated, but continued. The sound stopped right behind her.

“What do you want, Leliana?” she asked. She turned and looked into the shocked face of the lay sister.

“How did you know it was me?”

Renya pointed to her ears.

“Not just for show. Right, I remember,” Leliana replied, forcing herself to not look too long at the tapered ears. The elf stared at her, and Leliana felt at a loss for words. She supposed she should say something, since she was the one who had approached Renya, but wasn’t sure where to start.

“Are you alright?”

Renya scoffed. “Nae. No,” she grunted. The elf turned around again.

Okay, don’t start there, Leliana. “Thank you for getting the medallions,” she tried again.

“Hm.”

Leliana sighed. Usually she knew exactly what to say to get the information she wanted, but that had not been the case with Renya so far.

“I think Ser Perth and his men will fight more valiantly now that they have them,” she said, deciding to try commenting on the tactical aspect of Renya’s actions. She hoped that would appeal to what she knew the elf was interested in.

“Are you trying to charm me like you did that blacksmith? It will not work.”

Leliana was about to object, when she checked herself. Was that what she was trying to do? Was she truly trying to win this elf like a prize? The Chantry sister sighed.

“No, Renya. I just want to apologize for upsetting you…” she began.

She finally got a reaction, although it was not the one she had wanted. Renya spun on her heel, suddenly livid.

“Sorry? You are _sorry?_ ” she spat. “Do you have any idea… No, of course you do not,” she added to herself. “You want a story, Leliana? My people have been hunted and attacked by shemlen, by templar, even by flat-ear city elves in the employ of shemlen. We have no home, always moving to try and stay ahead of the hatred. Sometimes we succeed, often we fail. I have watched friends die, killed by templar. This knife came from one of them,” she fumed, brandishing it in the air in front of Leliana’s face. “Men, women, fledglings, it did not matter to the shems. They all died in the name of your seth’lin Maker. ‘Blessed are the peacekeepers,’ bah! Fenedhis lasa,” she said, and spat on the ground.

Leliana listened, eyes wide. Renya looked at her and her eyes, in turn, narrowed.

“A templar was about to kill a fledgling, a child. A little da’len, who had no more than five years. I jumped on him and she got away, and he…” She shook her head, baring her teeth in her anger. “He knocked me to the ground and stabbed me. One, two, three.” She jabbed at the armor over her stomach with her knife, over each of her scars. “He pinned me to the ground. That was the templar that died with that bow.” She pointed to her bow still on Leliana’s back.

“And my parents? Attacked by shemlen bandits and their flat-ear friends. My father died to protect my mother. My mother returned to the clan wounded, bore me, and then abandoned me, too young to remember her. She was so upset at my father’s murder that she wandered off into the moonlight one night and never returned!”

The Chantry sister shook her head in disbelief.

“I do not believe those medals are any more blessed than I believe Falon’din reaches from the Beyond to guide the arrows that fly from that bow,” she shot at Leliana, jabbing her finger at the bow again. “Or any more than I believe the creators who guide me reside in these markings.” She indicated the designs on her forehead. “But it is my faith in them that gives me hope, gives me power. Something you seth’lin Shantri shemlen should know about,” she spat. Leliana frowned a little, but she waited. She was sure there was more coming.

And there was. “But it was the Dalish elf, the _heathen,_ the one who would be stabbed as soon as looked at if she did not travel surrounded by shemlen, who was willing to enter your Shantri, talk to your Revered Mother, listen to your seth’lin Chant, and hear the dying screams of _my_ people all so _your_ people could have a little more _faith_ when they fight tonight!” She took a breath. “And you come here and apologize for upsetting me.” Her voice was quiet now, disdainful. She shook her head in disgust, turning away again.

Leliana’s head was spinning. She wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m… Renya, I don’t know what to say. Saying I’m sorry doesn’t even begin to…”

Renya held up her hand. “Atisha, Leliana,” she said with a sigh. “Peace. You do not need to say anything.”

Leliana nodded at Renya’s back. She turned to go back to the village, but had only taken a step, when –

“Do not leave,” Renya murmured. “Please.” She sank to the ground, and Leliana hurried to kneel by her side. She put her arm around Renya’s shoulders and felt her stiffen at the touch.

The elf squinted into the forest. “I just want to go home, Leliana,” she said softly. “I do not belong here.”

Leliana didn’t know what to say to comfort the elf, and so remained quiet. Renya turned, and Leliana was surprised at how close they were. She stared into the green eyes, usually so bright, now utterly sad and lost, and tried to convey feelings that she couldn’t put into words.

“Ma inan… Your eyes…” Renya said as if seeing them for the first time. Her brows knit together slightly.

Leliana was suddenly aware of how close she had drifted to the elf, enveloped in the smell of forest air and pine needles. But she didn’t move away. Her eyes drifted to Renya’s lips. Renya suddenly looked away and Leliana felt her nose rub against Renya’s ear. Leliana exhaled, feeling disappointed, and then horrified. She had no idea what had just come over her; this was not one of her stories. This was not how things happened in real life: building a relationship on enchanting eyes and fantasies of elves.

“You know, when you breathe like that right into my ear, it is very loud,” Renya said conversationally.

“I’m sorry,” Leliana said breathlessly, reaching up to touch the ear. She realized what she was doing and caught herself. Renya was watching her out of the side of her eye with a knowing look on her face.

“Go ahead, then. I have seen you staring all this time.”

Against her better judgment, Leliana closed the gap between her fingers and the ear. The ear twitched at her touch, and she hesitated. Gently, she began to stroke it, starting at its pointy tip and slowly dragging her fingers down its ridge to the base. She did that a few times, mesmerized, until her fingers drifted and she began rubbing behind the ear, as well. Renya clenched her jaw and kept her face carefully blank, but Leliana didn’t seem to notice. They sat like that quietly for a short while before the elf pulled away and got up. Renya offered her hand to Leliana, who took it and pulled herself to her feet.

“Ma serannas. Thank you for listening,” Renya said, suddenly businesslike. “Shall we go back and see how the others are faring?”

Leliana nodded. She didn’t trust her voice to work. Renya nodded at her and began striding back toward the village, tucking her hunting knife back into her belt. Leliana sighed, her heart sinking.

_It’s better this way,_ she intoned to herself. _It’s better this way._

Shaking her head sadly, she followed the Warden back to the village.

***

Bann Teagan was the first one to greet them upon their return.

“Renya,” he said, face full of concern. “I’m glad to see you are alright.”

“Ma serannas, Teagan. Thank you. I am fine. It has been… It has been a week,” she said, somewhat lamely. But Teagan nodded as if he understood.

“Ser Perth was most grateful for the medallions. Some of the laymen in the army have requested to train with the Wardens before the battle this evening. Alistair is over there with them now, if you would like to join him,” he said, pointing at a clearing that had practice dummies and archery targets placed in it.

“Of course. What is the weapon situation?”

Teagan smiled. “Very good. Sten has an excellent eye, and Owen is a fine blacksmith. They have both been great assets to us.” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “At the risk of sounding ignorant, my lady, I was wondering if you had given any thought to where you would spend the battle?”

Renya frowned. “Where I would spend it? Fighting, I imagine.” The bann chuckled.

“No, I mean… we don’t have many good archers, and…” he trailed off, looking anxious.

“…and I am an elf,” Renya said with a smile. She saw some of the men with bows and arrows practicing and inwardly cringed at their aim. “Of course, it would be an honor,” she said politely.

Leliana, hovering behind Renya’s shoulder, took the bow off her back.

“Then you will be needing this back, Warden,” she said evenly. Renya startled at the renewed use of her title.

“Then we will also need to outfit you with… a weapon of your choice,” Renya commented, realizing she didn’t know how Leliana preferred to fight. She had just handed the lay sister her bow because they had nothing else to spare.

“A bow, if there is one to spare,” Leliana said.

Teagan indicated the piles still lying in front of the blacksmith shop. “Help yourself. It is the least we can do.”

“Thank you, ser,” Leliana said. They walked over to the weapons. Sten had joined Alistair with the troops and, from here, looked as if he was very frustrated with the humans. Renya smiled indulgently as the qunari shook his head at the humans again and again.

Leliana, meanwhile, selected a bow and a quiver of arrows and put them on her back. Renya came up to her.

“No, take this one,” she said, offering a different bow. “It is made of ironbark. One of the strongest there is, at least that humans have to use. You have elm.”

“Thank you, Warden,” Leliana said, replacing the bow and not looking at Renya.

“We will also have to find you some armor…”

“No,” Leliana said. Renya thought she misheard her.

“No?”

“No,” Leliana repeated. “Go work with the troops. I will be there soon, Warden. Thank you.” And she walked away. Renya watched her go, but then gave herself a little shake before turning and joining the humans practicing with Alistair and Sten.

The archers appeared willing to work with Renya, especially after seeing her skill with a bow. Renya was even slightly pleased with herself, having hit the bulls-eye target five times in a row. She worked with them for about half an hour when Alistair called her over.

“I was thinking,” he said. “You and I never had a chance to spar at Ostegar…”

Renya raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. “And you wanted the chance to lose to me, too?”

“I thought it might be good for the men to see how two skilled Wardens wield their blades,” Alistair said innocently. Renya smiled, inwardly accepting his apology.

“I have an interesting idea…”

A few minutes later, the men had gathered around. Renya was going to lead a demonstration with three of the army members, before sparring with Alistair. She stood in the center of a wide circle, and the three chosen men entered. One of them looked uncomfortable; the other two looked annoyed that they were about to fight just an elf.

“Now I want you to all attack me at the same time,” Renya said with a smile. A chuckle went around the circle. “Unless you plan on each charging the castle individually, I suggest you learn how to fight together, you know, as an army,” she said sharply. The chuckling stopped. Alistair grinned.

Renya looked at the three men again. “Go on,” she said. “Attack me.” They approached her, but she stopped them. “No, not in a line. I am faster than you, but you are bigger than me. Use that to your advantage. Surround me. Go again.”

Slowly, they walked forward, swords drawn and shields raised, beginning to flank her. Renya watched them, smiling, and didn’t bother drawing her weapons. When they had all reached a good striking distance, they all swung, and she ducked. Their swords connected with each others’ shields, knocking them all backwards.

Renya rose amidst more chuckling and whooping from the crowd. “Vin, yes, now, you are here as a group. Be aware of what the other ones are doing, and coordinate your movements. Try again, and this time hit me and not each other. And do not underestimate your enemy because of its looks,” she added with a meaningful nod.

They approached her again. And again, each time Renya correcting their movements or making them more aware of their environment. They began to get the hang of it after the fourth try. “Much better!” she said, finally having had to hop back a few steps as the three men attacked like a team. She looked at the sky.

“Before the evening meal, Alistair and I are going to test you again, but first, we wanted to show you a sword fight between two skilled Grey Wardens,” she smiled at Alistair, who walked forward, the men around him cheering and clapping him on the shoulder.

“Don’t make me look too bad,” he said amiably.

“Do not hold back because I am an elf,” she replied with a wink.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Alistair smiled. This was going to be a good fight.

It was a good fight. Alistair was a phenomenal swordsman, and Renya had never actually fought anyone wielding a shield before. She dodged and weaved, looking for patterns and weaknesses in his defense. He managed to knock one of her wooden weapons out of her hand, sending it flying a few feet. Renya heard a gasp that she recognized as Leliana’s.

Smiling at Alistair, she feinted, but he didn’t fall for it. She darted around him, rolling under his swing and coming up behind his shield arm, knocking it away from him.

“Well done, Warden.” Morrigan’s voice floated easily through the silence.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Alistair said, not taking his eyes off of Renya as they circled each other. “You have a fan club. Why don’t I have a fan club? I deserve a fan club…”

“Yay Alistair,” Renya said with a grin. Her friend chuckled.

“That’s more like it,” he said before lunging at her. She dodged out of the way. He swung again. Their swords clashed, and Renya worried for a moment that he would overpower her; he was, after all, much bigger than she was. She dodged out from under his attack however, and they circled each other again, neither one talking this time, both intent on winning.

Alistair swung at her again, and she tried to get out of the way but misjudged his swing. She brought her longsword up to block the blow, but she was off-balance and his strike was true. The longsword was knocked from her hand, and the crowd gasped. But Alistair didn’t let up, knowing Renya wouldn’t yield until she was on the ground with his wooden blade at her throat.

He charged at her, but this time she got out of the way. She managed to duck behind him as he backswung at her, and as his arm extended fully she caught the hilt and twisted it out of his hand. He spun, eyes wide as she disarmed him, and watched as she threw the sword away from them both.

“Draw,” she said clearly, looking at him. His startled look melted into a smile.

“Draw.”

The crowd around them erupted in cheers as the two friends gathered their wooden weapons and returned them to a nearby barrel.

“Groups of three,” Alistair called to the group. “Against each other. Let’s see what you’ve learned.” He turned to Renya.

“That was fun!”

Renya punched him on the arm lightly. “It was, lethallin. We should do that again sometime. Now I know your tricks!”

Alistair laughed. “Likewise.” He looked over at some of the men sparring and nodded approvingly. “I’m going to stay here a little longer. Are you going to eat? Save me some. Save me a lot. Warden appetite, you know.”

“Ma nuvenin, lethallin.”

She left the training ground and found Morrigan, Leliana, and Sten. Elgar barked happily and almost knocked Renya over as he jumped on her.

“Thanks, boy,” she said pushing him off her and petting him.

“You fight like a warrior,” Sten said, barely concealing his shock.

“Thank you, Sten,” the elf replied.

“Yes, ‘twas most impressive,” said Morrigan. “’Tis a shame that you did not beat Alistair outright, but…”

“It was not a competition, Morrigan. We were just showing the troops our skills. And having some fun,” Renya added with a smile.

“Hm.”

They walked to a nearby tavern. Renya noticed that the usually talkative Leliana was walking behind the rest of the group, not looking at anyone. After getting a table, Morrigan stalked off to… Renya didn’t recognize the word that she said, but the witch said that she would return shortly. Sten was standing at the bar looking very out-of-place as he ordered drinks.

Renya got her first good look at Leliana. “You are… wearing armor,” she commented with surprise. “Where did you get that from?”

“You can’t expect me to survive a military campaign in Chantry robes, can you?” Leliana responded.

“Well, no, I guess not, but it is a lot nicer than anything I have seen here in Redcliffe.”

It was true. The armor was of a black, leathery material Renya had not seen before, with what looked like small, dark, silverite scales adorning the abdomen. A small version of what Alistair had called the “radiant sword” was embroidered onto a piece of red leather snaking up the breastpiece in a “V” shape before twisting around Leliana’s neck. A small diamond was cut in the material below the insignia, showing off… Renya blinked and cleared her throat. Leliana’s arms were covered by what looked like black leather scales, and her left forearm had an armguard typical of an archer. The armor was intricately detailed, and Renya found herself wanting to study it much closer than was probably polite.

With interest, she noticed two fine daggers dangling from Leliana’s belt; they seemed to be of polished silverite, and the guards and pommels were of gold. The same red leather wound around the grips. They were very handsome, to say the least, and Renya wondered how a Chantry sister could have come across such a fine set of armor with matching daggers.

“Thank you.” Leliana sighed, not noticing Renya staring. “It was already mine. I brought it with me from Lothering.”

“Oh.”

The Chantry sister smiled sadly. “Perhaps… a story for tonight, Warden?” she suggested as Sten came back over, bearing a tray full of tankards.

Renya smiled. “I would like that a lot.”

Leliana’s jaw tightened oddly, but she nodded before turning her attention back onto Sten, thanking him for the drinks.

***

Renya stood with the archers, offering last minute advice and correcting grips. Finally, she was satisfied, knowing that there was not much more she could do moments before battle to improve their skills. She walked over to Leliana and stood next to her, swinging her bow off her back.

“Ready?” she asked the redhead. Leliana nodded.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She glanced at Renya. “This will work, won’t it?”

Renya looked at her. “It should. But do not worry. Even if it does not, I have a way out.”

Leliana’s breath caught. Renya continued, unaware. “I will draw their fire, and you run away as fast as you can,” she said, smiling. Noticing Leliana’s face, she leaned a little closer, her smile fading. “Are you alright?”

“What? Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just… why would you do that?”

“…So you could get away. That was the second part of my brilliant plan. You seem to have missed it.”

Leliana’s thoughts were racing. For a moment, she heard an Orlesian accent, and not a Dalish one, utter those words. _I have a way out…_ But the Dalish elf, she would stay – sacrifice herself – so Leliana could escape? _Keep it together, Leliana. You are about to be attacked by living corpses._ Somehow that didn’t make her feel better.

“Hey.” Renya laid a hand on her shoulder. “It is going to be okay, and you are going to tell me a story later, and I am going to freak out about the Shantri, and everything is going to be fine.” She smiled again. Briefly she was reminded of Cailan, smiling when he must have known they were doomed.

But it worked. Leliana laughed. “That sounds wonderful,” she said, placing her hand on top of Renya’s. She pulled it away and looked straight ahead again, very aware of Renya removing her hand, as well. “There’s the signal,” she said as a horn blast cut through the air.

They were disgusting. Men and women, partially decomposed, came running out of the castle and over walls, armed with swords, shovels, and what looked like farming tools.

“Aim!” Renya called. Twelve bows rose, fitted with arrows. “Fire!” Arrows rained down on the attacking corpses as the rest of the army charged. From where she stood, Renya could see Alistair, Sten, and Elgar cutting a path through the bodies easily. Morrigan, as the only mage, was standing back with the archers, casting spells rapidly.

“Aim!” she called again. Clicking of wood filled the area as arrows were fitted. “Fire!”

Corpses fell underneath the barrage of arrows, and part of the swarm came toward them.

“Fire as you will!” Renya cried, noticing Leliana already shooting arrow after arrow. She saw the other humans struggling to keep up with the Chantry sister and began firing rapidly, as well.

“Thirteen, fourteen,” Renya counted to herself in Dalish as her arrows hit their marks. “Fifteen, no, _fifteen,_ sixteen…” A yell grabbed her attention.

A small group of corpses had broken through and were attacking Morrigan, she was bravely casting spells and trying to stave them off with her staff, but she was surrounded.

“Ma halam,” Renya muttered, taking aim as she broke lines and moved toward the witch. She picked off three before she got to her, then swung her bow around onto her back, drew her swords with a flourish, and hacked the others to pieces.

“Thank you, Warden,” Morrigan said, out of breath. She flipped her hair out of her eyes. “There are too many people I do not wish to hurt; I hesitated to use my more powerful magic,” she apologized.

“Do not worry about it, Morrigan. You keep up what you are doing, and I will keep them off you,” Renya said, fitting another arrow and taking aim, walking a few steps away to give the witch room to work. As the battle progressed, Renya felt calmer. There were definitely fewer corpses than army men now, and the methodic movement of firing arrows was soothing. As fewer corpses appeared, Renya joined in with the swordsmen, slashing through the waking dead with speed and accuracy.

“Ar tu na’lin emma mi!” Renya yelled fiercely, stabbing a walking corpse with one hand while swinging her longsword at another. But then things changed. She turned and saw a band of creatures climb over an unguarded wall and race toward the archers, who were low on arrows after so much fighting. She called for Elgar, who howled and took off after his master as she ran for the retreating line.

She hacked her way through the monsters, Elgar growling and lunging for the throats of the ones she missed. It was like a deadly dance as the elf and her dog wove through the creatures, closer to the almost-defenseless archers. She saw Leliana draw her blades, but there were so many surrounding them… Renya pointed, and Elgar ran off toward Morrigan, snarling ferociously at the corpses advancing on her.

The elf fought her way through the mass in time to see Leliana have one of her blades knocked out of her hand as another corpse raised an ax high above her head.

“Ma halam! You are finished!” Renya growled, lunging at him. The force of her jump knocked him back, her sword lodged in his neck. She pulled it out and turned in time for another creature, one that looked like a dead soldier, swing a sword at her. It connected with her chest, but the armor held and Renya was only knocked back. Another corpse had swung at Leliana, but as the redhead looked up she saw Renya standing in front of her, absorbing blows and twisting her swords in a complicated motion that left her attackers dead.

Alistair’s bellow rose above the noises of the fight. He had noticed the archers being massacred.

“Go!” Renya shouted over her shoulder as she blocked another sword strike, crossing her blades in front of her.

Did she really expect her to run? Leliana shook her head and stood back-to-back with the elf in the middle of the advancing crowd of corpses.

“Leliana! Go! Now!” Renya shouted again. “Get at them from the outside!”

Of course, Renya would draw their focus and Leliana could then slip around them and attack from behind. The elf remembered how Leliana had fought at the tavern.

Without waiting for a response, Renya yelled and kicked out, knocking the corpse in front of her into the other monsters, effectively getting their attention. Leliana ducked down and slipped out from the group. She turned and gasped. The elf was surrounded by corpses much taller than her, and she was completely swallowed up by them.

“Renya!” Leliana yelled.

She set to work, seamlessly twirling and felling the creatures with familiar, graceful movements. Even though the situation was dire, Leliana couldn’t help but smile at the quick return of her skills. She looked up when she heard another oncoming bellow.

“For the Grey Wardens!”

Alistair charged into the group, using his shield as a battering ram. Finally the numbers began to diminish as the army focused its attention on this new wave of enemy.

Two hours after the initial fighting had begun, the village was finally silent. The injured were taken to the Chantry building, and Morrigan reluctantly followed to provide what little healing magic she knew.

“Because they shall let an apostate perform magic inside a Chantry,” Morrigan huffed.

“Tell the Revered Mother you are with the Dalish elf from before, and… nevermind, I will just go with you,” Renya said, limping beside her.

Once they were inside, Leliana and Alistair joined them, Leliana helping to bandage the injured, Alistair being bandaged. Renya winced as a woman from the town cleaned and dressed her injuries; she had a number of cuts and bruises, and was already feeling sore. Within the hour, the injured had been attended to, and Renya flopped herself on one of the strange long chairs that the Chantry building held. Leliana sat next to her, while Morrigan leaned on the wall on her other side. Alistair was already asleep on a cot in another room.

“Sit up, knife-ear, show some respect!” a templar barked at her. Leliana put a hand on the elf’s knee, but Renya simply looked at the templar. Her eyes burned with hatred.

“It is because of me that this Chantry building is still here,” she said with forced calm. “Where were you during the fighting?”

“I protect the Chantry!”

“And I protected the village. I will sit however I like,” she said, turning away from him. Elgar, lying at her feet, growled at the templar.  
The templar stomped over, reaching out for her. Morrigan pushed herself off the wall, and Leliana rose from the bench, but it was a voice from the other side of the building that stopped the templar advancing.

“Leave her, Ser Knight,” the Revered Mother called, walking toward them. “She has earned the right to rest her bones. The Maker accepts all,” she stood next to the templar and gave him a look. “And so do I.”

“She is Dalish,” he told her in a strained whisper.

“I see that, just as I saw it this afternoon. She-”

“A heathen!” the templar argued, not believing what he was hearing. “A dark spot on the Maker’s clean world!”

Renya’s lip twitched into the hint of a snarl; her expression was matched by Morrigan. Leliana, meanwhile, was shaking her head in disbelief as she glared at the templar.

“Enough, Ser Knight. You will not harm her while she is here. She is under my protection,” the Revered Mother said with finality.

“But, Mother…”

“That is my final word, Ser Knight…”

“Yes, Mother.” With a final look at Renya, he returned to his post. Renya turned her attention onto the Revered Mother.

“Ma serannas. Thank you,” she said, surprised.

“You will always be welcome here, child,” the Revered Mother said to her. “You are not like the stories of the Dalish we are told. If the Maker accepts all, how can I act differently? You have done this town a great favor tonight, and now I bid you to rest here as long as you like.”

She wished them goodnight and retired back to her office. Renya stared after her with her mouth open.

“You really made an impression, didn’t you?” Leliana said, impressed.

Renya nodded dumbly, still watching the place where the Chantry Mother had disappeared into her office.

“I’m glad someone of the Chantry has sense,” Morrigan commented airily.

Leliana glared at her, but Renya cut her off before she could reply.

“Let us find out bedrolls, yes? I think I could sleep for an entire age.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Survived the battle at Redcliffe! No cliffhanger; we all deserved a break (haha)
> 
> Question: is Leliana's armor description out of place?  
> I usually don't spend so much time on clothing, but I was intrigued by the Armor of the Provocateur in the Leliana's Song DLC, which says that it makes a viewer want to stare at it too long. I figured describing the armor would convey how mesmerized Renya was by it, even though it's not like her to be distracted by any of Leliana's charms.
> 
> Translations:  
> Len'alas lath'din - dirty child no one loves  
> aeno'Shantri - I smashed two words together, which mean "warrior" and "Chantry"... the closest I could get to "templar"  
> dirthara'ma - may you learn (an insult)  
> seth'lin - thin blooded (another insult)  
> fenedhis lasa - a strong Dalish curse  
> nuvenin ven ma vhenas - again, cobbling together a phrase to mean "I want to go home"  
> At tu na'lin emma mi - "I will see your blood on my blade"
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
> Or, say hello and tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)


	23. Creeping Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana's feelings begin playing tricks on her, much to her dismay.

They slept in bedrolls on the floor. Renya had wanted to go and sleep outside like Morrigan and Sten had decided to do, but Leliana had insisted on staying in the building. She had begged Renya to stay with her, and Renya, far too tired to argue, finally agreed to stay in the Chantry with the chatty human. And so they found a quiet little office and unfurled their rolls.

“So, we are fine. Now I just need to tell you a story and you need to freak out about the Chantry, and everything will be like you said,” Leliana said with a smile.

Renya arched an eyebrow. “I cannot believe that templar. He was so rude. I wanted to stab him in the eye,” she said with a yawn. Elgar gruffed in agreement before lying down next to Renya’s roll.

Leliana laughed as she started to take off her armor. “That was it?”

“I am very tired. That is all I have left.” She went into her pack and pulled out the clothes she was going to sleep in. Seeing Leliana’s back turned, meticulously unfastening her armor, Renya removed her own armor and was changed before Leliana had finished.

“How did you do that so quickly?” Leliana asked, turning around.

Renya shrugged. “Practice? I usually do this out in the wild.”

Leliana nodded thoughtfully. “Help me with this piece?” She indicated the black chestpiece. “The tie is stuck.”

Renya picked at the knot, and Leliana fought goose bumps as the elf’s fingers brushed against the skin under her arm. The elf seemed unaware. Indeed, she was intrigued by the material of the armor. It was a leather, not metal, but it felt strong and durable. And Leliana had made it through the battle without so much as a scratch on her.

Renya’s eyes fell onto the skin beneath the armor. A strange line, whiter than Leliana’s pale skin, traced across her side, its beginning and end concealed by the front and back pieces of the armor. There was another one below it. And another, this one at a different angle and winding down Leliana’s side before disappearing under her armor. Leliana glanced down at Renya’s pause, but the elf resumed picking at the knot with her face carefully blank.

A few minutes of torture later as Renya’s fingers whispered along her sides, Leliana was free, and she turned quickly and pulled a tunic over her head before removing the top of her armor. She lay down on her bedroll, facing Renya who had already tucked herself in.

“So now I get to tell you a story?” Leliana asked happily. “I love stories.”

“Yes, about that armor of yours, I think,” Renya said. Leliana nodded resignedly.

“I found the pieces during my former life, before I joined the Chantry,” she said without any introduction. “It is quality armor – made of drakeskin, if you can believe that – and I have kept it as a reminder of where I have been, and… in case I ever go back,” she finished in an ashamed whisper. A long silence passed between them. The lamps in the Chantry were put out and they were left in moderate darkness.

“That is the story?” The elf sounded disappointed. Leliana managed a smile.

“How much do you want to know about me?” she asked playfully. She mentally kicked herself. _Why are you doing this to yourself?_

“What did you do before you joined the Chantry?”

Leliana sighed. “I was a... minstrel.”

“…you sang in someone’s court?”

“Yes. And I traveled with others; you learn much about self defense when you are on the road, no?” she said carefully.

“Where did you perform?”

“Orlais,” Leliana said. “…and Ferelden.”

“In Ferelden, too? You must be very talented to be asked to perform in a country that is not your own.”

Leliana smiled, even though the elf couldn’t know the true meaning of those words. “I’m flattered you think so.”

“Who did you travel with?”

“A dwarf, an elf…” She smiled sadly at the memory. “And… another woman…”

“You traveled with another elf?”

Of course that would interest her. “I did.”

“…were her ears as… _lovely_ as mine?”

Leliana couldn’t be sure, but she was fairly certain Renya was teasing her.

“His. And no. I have never seen ears as lovely as yours,” she replied with a smile.

“Hm. And a dwarf? I did not think they were good musicians.”

“He was a terrible singer,” she said quietly. “But a good friend.”

Renya was silent. Leliana wished she could see her expression. She turned on her side and saw two green glints looking at her. They blinked.

“Do you miss it?”

Leliana paused, thoughtful. “There are some parts that I miss, and some that I do not,” she said truthfully. “I am glad I left that behind me, though.”

“Now I know why you are so interested in stories. You will have to tell us one of your favorites at camp one evening,” Renya said kindly.

“I would be happy to. I love stories far too much to keep them to myself!”

“Good. I think we have many nights ahead of us. We can pretend that we are living in a marble court, with… with… whatever marble courts have.” There was a short silence as the elf thought. “Fancy… clothes… or chairs.”

Leliana chuckled. “So is this to become a nightly routine?” she asked after a pause. She heard Renya yawn.

“…mhm,” came the vague reply.

Leliana listened as Renya’s breathing became deeper, and when she looked over at her again, the glints were gone. She turned onto her side and tried to go to sleep. As she drifted off, she wondered why Renya hadn’t asked for a reason a traveling minstrel would turn to the Chantry. Did she suspect more to the story than she was letting on? Leliana shook her head. She was being ridiculous. That was like asking why Renya was a Grey Warden. Life had brought her here. No, nothing about what she said was suspect.

She fell asleep feeling uneasy.

***

_“This will work, won’t it?”_

_“Don’t worry, pretty thing. I have a way out.”_

_Cold steel, shooting pain… she collapsed onto the ground, clutching the knife in her side. She looked up in time to see something heavy be swung at her head. The scene shifted._

_“No! No! Let go of me!” She fought her captors, lashing out as much as she could with her hands tied behind her back._

_“It’ll be worse for you if you struggle,” one of the guards said, looping an arm around her underneath her arms and clamping a hand over her mouth. He withdrew it quickly._

_“Ow! The little bitch bit me!”_

_Leliana found herself thrown to the ground and pinned by one of the guards, who sat on her. “I know what I’d like to do with a spirited woman like you,” he breathed. “But Raleigh wants his fun, don’t he?”_

_“Get off me, you dog!”_

_But the man laughed. “You’ll be begging for me to come back before he’s done with you, don’t you worry.”_

_Leliana’s heart jumped into her throat, but before she could respond the guard grabbed her legs and dragged her on her back down the gravel path to the door leading into the dungeon. Leliana twisted, trying to get away, or give the man a reason to kill her, anything except bring her down to the cells._

_“That’s no way to treat our beautiful guest,” came a gruff voice. Leliana looked behind her as best she could._

_Even upside-down she recognized him: the man she - that awful,_ terrible _woman – had slept with. Her words echoed in Leliana’s head: ”I chose an easier fight to save you a greater one, my pet…”_

____

_“But Raleigh,” the other guard said. “I only…”_

____

_“Here,” Raleigh replied, scooping up Leliana’s torso. The other guard grabbed her legs, and they hoisted her into the air. She started to squirm._

____

_“No! No! Let me go! Please!”_

____

_Raleigh’s strong arms wrapped around her more tightly. “Let me help the lady down the stairs. We don’t want her having a nasty accident, now do we?” He leaned close to her ear. “I don’t want you to miss all the fun, ‘pretty thing’.”_

____

_As Leliana struggled, a voice far in the distance was calling her name. It was pointless, she knew. No one was going to save her; she knew she wasn’t worth the effort. The fate that was awaiting her would be shared with anyone who tried to intervene. But the voice was insistent, repeating her name over and over even as the guards’ holds became tighter. Her head connected with Raleigh’s jaw, and as she fought against his grip was able to ram her fists into his side. They finally dragged her over to the door, kicked it open, and carried her inside. The door closed and she found herself in complete darkness. Even here the voice followed her. Why? Wasn’t it obvious this was a hopeless cause?_

____

_“Leliana? …Leliana??”_

____

***

____

Leliana opened her eyes and noticed she was in a different part of the room than where she had started the night before. Looking around, she became aware that her head was resting on someone’s leg, a someone whose fingers were resting on, and were somewhat buried in, her hair. Leliana was holding on to the leg she was lying on, and the person’s other hand was draped over her shoulder, fingers dangling. She turned her head and saw Renya above her, propped up in the corner of the room, fast asleep, legs bent awkwardly around the furniture so Leliana could use her as a pillow. She started to move, and Renya gripped her shoulder tightly before rousing herself, groaning as she did so.

____

“Good morning,” she said with some surprise when she noticed Leliana was awake. She removed her hand from Leliana’s hair but kept the one on her shoulder.

____

“Good morning, Warden. You sound like you were expecting the morning to be something other than good?” Leliana replied, trying to act casually as she lay in the elf’s lap. She willed her heart to beat regularly.

____

Renya gave her an odd look. “You… had a rough night.”

____

Leliana sat up, feeling disappointed as the elf’s hand slipped from her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

____

“You… well… you were having a nightmare, I think. You were calling out…” Renya said uncomfortably.

____

Leliana’s heart dropped. “What did I say?” she asked in a panic. Then, more calmly: “I’m sorry, Warden, I hope I didn’t disturb you too much.”

____

The elf shook her head. “You were speaking in Orlesian, mostly. But you were saying ‘no’ and ‘please’ a lot, and you sounded like you were… well you did not sound particularly happy.” She regarded the woman. “You do not remember?”

____

“No,” she lied in a mortified whisper.

____

“And… you were calling me what sounded like a man’s name… Rowly or something like that.”

____

Leliana was staring straight ahead, thoughts flying. She glanced at the elf and noticed small circular bruises on her collarbone and the top of her shoulders not covered by her tunic, as if someone had held on to her very tightly for a long time.

____

“I tried to comfort you, but you started clawing at me. That is how I wound up in the corner. You have some punch,” she said, massaging her side with a kind smile. “You did not start calming down until… well, it does not matter.” Renya surreptitiously passed her fingers over the bruises on her collarbone. “You… went back to sleep, or the dream ended, or something. You finally looked so peaceful, I could not bear to wake you up…” she finished, rubbing her vallaslin, hard, until it was red. Leliana noticed Renya had a bruise on her jaw that was not there when they had gone to sleep.

____

“I’m sorry,” Leliana said quietly. “I’m so sorry, Warden.”

____

But Renya smiled. “It is okay. A lot happened yesterday,” she said simply. Leliana nodded. _You have no idea._ Renya rose, stretching, and watched Leliana stare blankly at the floor.

____

“Hey.”

____

Leliana looked up and saw a hand offered to her. She took it let the elf guide her to her feet. Renya didn’t let go of her hand right away, looking at her seriously.

____

“It is okay.”

____

Dropping her gaze, Leliana nodded, blinking furiously. As if on cue, Renya pulled Leliana close and wrapped her arms around her. Leliana buried her face in the elf’s neck, breathing in the scent of forest air and pine needles. She slowly wound her arms around the elf, letting her hands slide up the strong back and pulling herself as close as possible. Her throat was clenched and her breathing was ragged, but Renya just held her without comment, rubbing her back gently. It was some time later before Leliana collected herself and pulled away from her. Renya drew her hands up to Leliana’s shoulders and studied her carefully. She brushed a stray piece of hair out of the other woman’s face before letting her go with a nod.

____

Leliana watched Renya pick up her armor with a mixture of worry and just a touch of hope. She didn't notice that she was staring at the corner desk without blinking until Renya turned and put a hand on her shoulder again.

____

"Leliana? Are you alright?"

____

The lay sister forced herself to smile easily, even as hear stomach clenched. "Yes, Warden. Shall we see how the others fared last night?"

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Leliana...
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
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	24. Dungeons and Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warden company is asked to help figure out why Teagan's shouts to the castle have gone unanswered, but the reason isnot quite what they expected...

They breakfasted well. Alistair and Renya wolfed down as much food as they could lay their hands on, much to the amusement of Morrigan and Leliana. Even Sten looked impressed.

“I did not think humans possessed the appetite of the Beresaad,” he rumbled. “I continue to be intrigued by your behaviors.”

“Warden appetite,” Alistair said through a mouthful of food.

“I never used to eat so much in a whole day, let alone in one meal,” Renya observed, spooning eggs into her mouth. She scraped the remainng bits of food off the plate, looking disappointed.

“More?” Leliana offered, extending her hand. Renya nodded sheepishly. Leliana took the Warden’s bowl and returned a few minutes later with two more plates piled high with food, setting them in front of the Wardens.

“Ma serannas, Leliana,” Renya said, pulling the plate closer.

“Maker, this is delicious,” Alistair mumbled, tucking in. “Thank you,” he added, glancing up. A couple heaping mouthfuls later, he looked up again. “Mm, that reminds me,” he said, swallowing. “Teagan said he knows a way in to the castle. We’re to meet him up where we spoke with Ser Perth yesterday,” he said, glancing around the table.

Renya nodded. A woman came by and plopped a few glasses of milk in front of the little party. The elf drank deeply, then put it down in disgust.

“Ugh, what is this?”

“Milk,” Alistair said in disbelief. “Don’t elves drink milk?”

“Goat milk, or halla milk, sometimes,” she said. “But this is neither.”

“Ferelden has many cows,” Leliana supplied helpfully.

“Cow’s milk? Interesting,” Renya said, studying it. Shrugging, she took another drink. She put the glass down, her face less disgusted than before. “So we are to storm the castle today?”

“If by 'storm' you mean 'sneak in by some secret passage that Teagan knows about,' then yes,” Alistair said, wiping his mouth.

“Oh. Well that is just about the same thing, yes?”

The Wardens finally finished eating. Renya rose to pay the bill, but the serving woman waved her off.

“Bann Teagan has already paid for your meals, as thanks for your help last night, Ser Warden,” she said to Renya politely, curtseying. Renya watched, taken aback.

“Thank you,” she said, surprised. The woman smiled.

“Thank you, ser. You have helped save us. I bid you good day.” And she went to help another customer.

“Your uncle must have been busy, spreading the word that the Dalish elf is not the unholy terror that so many seem to think we are,” Renya commented as they exited the inn.

“It couldn’t have been your fighting last night, no. That couldn’t possibly be it. Or that you helped save the town,” Alistair replied, rolling his eyes. Renya smacked him on the arm and he laughed. They walked to the perch overlooking the town and found Teagan there, staring out over the village anxiously.

“Ah, Alistair, you’ve arrived. I hope your rest and breakfast were to your liking?” he asked with a smile. His eyes darted to Renya and his smile widened. “And good morning to you, Renya. It is good to see you.” He reached out his hand and Renya offered hers, remembering the gesture from the previous afternoon. She watched with amusement as he brought her hand up to his lips again.

“And you, Teagan,” she replied, suppressing a smile and ignoring Leliana’s disappointed look. “Alistair said you’ve found a way in?”

Teagan suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Yes, it’s a secret passage through that windmill,” he said softly. “My signet ring opens the passage…”

“Your ring opens…? You knew about this already?” Renya asked incredulously. The bann sighed.

“I did,” he said slowly. “But we greatly needed the help of the Wardens last night, and I thought if you knew, you would abandon us and enter the castle, leaving us to our doom.”

“We wouldn’t have done that, Teagan,” Alistair said, but Teagan was looking at Renya.

The elf was fiddling with the ring on her finger. She sighed. “We would not have. But I suppose we keep secrets for our own purposes, don’t we?” Her ear twitched as she heard Leliana make a little sound in the back of her throat, and saw her stiffen out of the corner of her eye. She turned her attention back to the bann, deciding to not worry about the enigmatic lay sister right now.

“You are… most gracious, Renya, and…” Teagan began, but whatever he was about to say was cut off.

“Teagan! There you are!” A woman and a guard were running toward them. Renya noticed with some interest that her accent was Orlesian, although much thicker than Leliana’s and, Renya admitted, not nearly as pleasant to listen to.

“Thank the Maker you are alive!” she said, throwing her arms around him.

“Isolde!” he said with some surprise. “What has happened? How did you get out of the castle?”

“Teagan, I don’t have much time to explain,” she said, letting go of him and staring at the castle forlornly. “I slipped away as soon as I saw the battle was over, but must return quickly, or I will be missed. And…” she lowered her voice to a soft murmur and leaned in to Teagan. Renya arched an eyebrow; she was still able to hear her speak very clearly. “I need you to come with me, Teagan. Alone. And right away.”

“This does not seem like a very good idea,” Renya said, startling the arlessa and Teagan. She smiled innocently, but cheekily pricked up her ears all the same.

“What?” Isolde said, turning on Renya with an ugly look on her face. She swept her eyes up and down the elf until they settled briefly, as always, on the markings on Renya’s forehead. “Who is this…” she scoffed “…woman, Teagan?”

“You remember me, Lady Isolde?” Alistair said, stepping forward. He sounded as enthusiastic as when they had first met the bann.

“Alistair?” she said. She withdrew, shaking her head. “Of all the… what are _you_ doing here?”

“These are Grey Wardens,” Teagan explained patiently, shooting an apologetic look at Renya and Alistair both. “I owe them my life.”

“Your pardon,” Isolde said, not sounding like she meant it. “I would exchange pleasantries, but…”

“Lady Isolde,” Renya began. “We had no idea anyone was alive in the castle. We need to know what happened.”

Isolde looked at her disdainfully. She turned to Alistair. “I know you need an explanation, but I do not know what is safe to tell.” The arlessa looked back at Teagan. “There is a… great evil inside the castle. The dead have risen and attacked. We have captured the mage responsible, but the horrors have not ended.”

Suddenly her face broke and she looked desperate. “And I think… Connor may be going mad. We have survived, but he will not leave the castle. He has seen so much death…” she said vaguely. “Teagan, you must help him,” she said putting her hand on the man’s shoulder. “You are his uncle. You could talk with him, bring reason to him!”

“There is something wrong here. I do not think you are giving us the whole story,” Renya said, narrowing her eyes. Isolde rounded on her, suddenly angry.

“Why, of all the insolent things to say!” she spat at her. “You are quite impertinent for an elf, dressed as you are, flaunting your swords like you are as good as a human.”

Renya clenched her jaw, and her fists followed suit. _As good as a human?_ Renya fumed to herself. _What was so great about humans, anyway?_

“Lady Isolde,” Leliana said, stepping in front of Renya. “If we are going to enter the castle, we must know all of what is happening.”

“In that case, I advise you learn to control your elf. Such brazenness is not becoming of them.” She looked around Leliana to where Renya stood glaring at her. “I would suggest a collar. And perhaps a leash. At times I have found them most helpful.”

Renya lunged at Isolde, grabbing her hunting knife. She had barely begun to draw it when Leliana jumped in front of her and grabbed her shoulders and Alistair stuck his arm out in front of her to keep her from pouncing on the arlessa. Morrigan surveyed the arlessa with contempt as Renya tried to push past Leliana’s hands, snarling at Isolde in Dalish.

“’Tis a strange thing,” Morrigan said evenly. “That you would insist on insulting the one who has saved your precious town and is willing to risk her safety for your family. Are all Fereldens so ungrateful?”

“I am fine, Leliana, I am fine,” Renya muttered sharply, stopping her fighting. Leliana finally let go of her.

Alistair lowered his arm, too. “And you expect us to help you after that?” he said angrily, glaring at Isolde. His use of the word “us” didn’t go unnoticed on Renya.

“Please,” Isolde said, her tone suddenly different. “There is something evil in the castle, and it has taken my husband and child hostage! I came here seeking help!” she cried.

“I will go with you, Isolde,” Teagan said. Renya looked at him incredulously.

“And what will that accomplish, other than giving this evil another prisoner?” she asked, glaring at Isolde. He smiled at her sadly.

“This is my family,” he said. “I must help them. Here.” He took the signet ring off his finger and handed it to Renya. “Take my ring and go through the passage. Meet us at the castle.”

“You would trust this el-… these people,” Isolde amended, “with something so important, Teagan?”

“I trust her, and them, with my life,” he said seriously. Isolde shook her head and began to walk away. “Do not tarry, please,” he whispered as he followed his sister-in-law.

“Dareth shiral, falon,” she replied. “Be safe, Teagan. We will see you soon.” The bann smiled and walked back down the hill.

***

Renya decided that she was not fond of dungeons. They were damp and dark and held too many secrets for her liking.

“And humans keep other humans in these things?” she asked. They had passed through three hallways that had hollowed-out areas in the wall with large iron grating in in front of them. Alistair had called them “cells.” Some of the cells had chains hanging from the ceilings.

“Yes,” Alistair said. “Generally if you hurt someone, or break a law, you wind up here, at least for a while.”

Renya noticed that Leliana was looking more and more uncomfortable the further in they walked. The elf fell back to talk to her. But Leliana was staring straight ahead, blinking furiously and shaking her head often, as if trying to clear her thoughts. Renya also noticed that Leliana had one of her daggers drawn, although they had not come across a monster since they first began their trek through the damp stone hallways. The blade was shaking.

The Warden sidled up next to her. “Are you alright-whoa!” She jumped back as the handsome silverite blade came up. She grabbed Leliana’s wrist before the knife reached her throat. “Leliana,” she said sharply. “Are you okay?”

Leliana blinked. “I’m sorry, Warden. I forget you are so quiet. I’m a little jumpy down here.”

Renya sighed at the continued use of her title. “I’ve noticed.” The poor lay sister looked terrified, her eyes haunted. Renya released her hand.

“Everything okay?” Alistair called from the front.

“Yes, we are fine. Just… big spider. It startled me,” Renya called back, grimacing at the poor excuse. She looked over her shoulder and saw Morrigan looking at her curiously. The Warden shook her head meaningfully, and the witch turned on her heel and followed the rest of the group. Turning back to Leliana, Renya gently took the dagger from her shaking hand and replaced it in its scabbard. Leliana grabbed her wrist tightly, not looking at her.

“I do not know what has you so afraid,” Renya said quietly, patting her hand. “But I will not let anything down here harm you.”

“I can… I can take care of myself, Warden. You don’t need to worry about me,” Leliana replied. The crack in her voice betrayed her. Renya shook her head.

“Just stay close to me. Are you frightened?" she asked. After all, Leliana had been troubled by nightmares after the horrors of the fight last night. "I will fight off any monsters we come across,” she added reassuringly when the lay sister didn't respond.

_Even the ones in my mind?_ Leliana thought horribly. _If only you knew…_

They walked on. As they passed a door, Renya paused. She thought she heard sobbing coming from behind the wood. Leliana looked at the elf curiously.

“You do not hear that?” Renya asked. Leliana shook her head. “Alistair, wait.”

The group came to a stop as Renya picked the lock to the room. As the door swung open, something large flew past her head, followed by a scream.

“Whoa! Whoa! I will not hurt you!” Renya said, showing her empty hands to the woman standing in the room. The woman was holding a piece of a broken crate, poised to throw it at the elf. She relaxed a little.

“You’re not… one of them?” she asked.

Renya shook her head. “Are you Valena?” she asked.

“How did you know?”

“Your father is looking for you,” Renya replied with a smile. “We have cleared a path, you can leave that way,” she added, pointing back the way they came.

“My father? Thank you so much! I’ve been hiding in here for so long. There are monsters in here…” Valena said with a shudder.

“You are safe now. You can make it out and go home,” Renya said, stepping aside. Valena curtseyed to her before exiting.

“Thank you! Maker’s blessings on you!” She ran down the hall toward the windmill entrance as fast as she could. Soon the echoes of her footsteps faded.

“Well that’s nice,” Alistair said evenly. “Owen will be pleased.”

“Shall we continue?” Morrigan called from down the hall.

They continued through the stone corridors, the only sounds around them being their own footsteps and the occasional drip of water falling to the dirty floor. Renya noticed with some concern how close Leliana was walking. Their shoulders were brushing, and Leliana’s jaw was set, her eyes wide and staring.

“We are almost there,” Renya said soothingly, hoping it was true. The sister nodded curtly.

A scream pierced through the silence, and they all jumped. Leliana groped for the elf’s arm to steady herself. The screaming continued.

“Maker preserve me,” she whispered. Renya glanced at her and covered her hand with her own.

The group hurried forward and found a group of waking dead attacking a man locked in a cell. The sight of the monsters seemed to steel the Chantry sister, who let go of Renya and pulled out her bow, fitting an arrow with practiced ease. Within such close quarters, the corpses were soon overpowered. Renya walked up to the cell to investigate.

“Maker’s blessing on you!” the man cried. “I thought they were going to get me.”

“Who are you?” Renya asked.

“My name is Jowan, I’m a mage from the Circle,” he said.

“What’s a mage of the Circle doing in Arl Eamon’s dungeon?” Alistair asked, crossing his arms. Jowan sighed.

“Isolde sent me to tutor Connor, but… things started going wrong, and…”

“You’re the one who started all this?” Alistair shook his head. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“Wait!” he cried. “I was only sent to kill the Arl, not resurrect any corpses. Why would they be attacking me if I was their master?”

“Because blood magic is harmful and unpredictable,” Alistair said as if explaining to a child. “That’s why it’s forbidden.”

“You were sent to kill the arl?” Renya interjected. “By whom?”

Jowan took a deep breath, shaking his head. “Loghain. Well, really, Rendon Howe, his right-hand. But Isolde was looking for someone to tutor Connor in secret, and I capitalized on the opportunity…”

“You were tutoring the boy?” Morrigan asked with interest. “I am surprised a human did not simply send him to the Circle. Do humans train apostates, now?”

“No, no,” Jowan said, shaking his head. “Connor showed signs, but Isolde didn’t want him to be taken from her. I was to just teach him to control his power. But something… happened. I don’t know what. He became so powerful.”

“So you are telling me a little boy did all of this?” Renya asked flatly.

“Yes. Well, no. It wasn’t a formal training, so he must have…he must have made contact with a demon in the Fade,” Jowan said, lowering his voice.

The little group stared at him.

“So what you are saying,” Renya said, trying to keep her voice even, “is that you were sent here to poison Arl Eamon. By lucky circumstance a little boy needed to be tutored in magic so his overbearing mother would not lose him, and there is now a demon living in the boy causing all these problems?”

“Yes,” Jowan said simply.

The elf shook her head and turned to Morrigan. “Is this really something that can happen?”

“’Tis possible,” Morrigan said. “If the boy did not possess the skill to control his power, there is no telling what could have happened.”

“I say we kill him,” Alistair said, glaring at the imprisoned mage.

Jowan shrugged. “It’s what the arlessa wants for me. But I want to help. I’ve made a mistake – many, actually. But I want to help Connor! He’s just a boy, and doesn’t deserve what is happening to him.”

“You poisoned Eamon and gave a little boy enough rope to hang himself with, and you expect us to just let you go?” Alistair asked incredulously.

“He _could_ come with us,” Renya suggested. “If there is a demon in the castle, we could use all magical help we can get. Merrill... the first of my clan, said it is best to have more mages on hand when dealing with demons.”

“He wants to atone,” Leliana said gently from the back. “I say we give him this chance.”

“I must actually agree with the Chantry sister,” Morrigan added. “He could provide useful information once we are inside the castle.”

“Fine, fine,” Alistair grumbled, waving his hand. Renya stepped forward and picked the lock easily, swinging the door open.

“I am in your debt,” the mage said. “And will serve you until this is all over and my punishment is decided.”

The remainder of the journey through the dungeon was uneventful. Upon breaking through the door to the castle, which was barred, the party found themselves surrounded by walking corpses and lesser demons. It was a long battle from the dungeon to the throne room, and when they finally arrived they were exhausted and covered in blood.

In front of a large fireplace was a young boy with yellow hair and blue eyes. Isolde stood next to him, looking sad. Bann Teagan, meanwhile, was performing acrobatic tricks in front of the boy, before sitting next to him like a dog.

“What… is it, mother?” the boy asked. Something about his voice was wrong. It was much too deep for a little boy.

Isolde looked at her son sadly. “It’s an elf, Connor. You remember elves…?”

“Of course I remember!” he said with glee. “I cut their ears off and gave them to the dogs! They chewed and chewed and chewed for hours!” he added happily.

Renya’s ears twitched impulsively.

“So, Mother,” the child said. “Should I send this one to the kennels?”

“Connor!” Isolde looked at her son with tears running down her cheeks. “Please… don’t hurt anyone!”

“M-mother?” Suddenly the boy’s voice sounded normal. His posture was different, too. But Renya saw something behind his eyes, still lurking. “Wh-what’s happening, Mother?”

“Connor! Thank the Maker!” his mother cried, reaching out to him. But the boy’s eyes changed and he backhanded the woman, sending her to the floor.

“Don’t touch me, you foolish woman. You are beginning to bore me.”

“This is the evil force? It truly lives inside a boy?” Renya muttered.

“Don’t say that!” Isolde was frantic. “Connor didn’t mean to do this. He just wanted to help his father…”

“It was a fair deal,” the demon inside Connor said. “Father is alive, and now I can sit on the throne and send out my armies to conquer the world. Nobody tells me what to do!”

“Nobody tells him what to do!” Teagan echoed with a lilting voice. “Nobody! Ha ha ha ha. Nobody tells him what to do!”

“Shut up, Uncle! I warned you what would happen if you kept yelling,” he said, and kicked the bann. “But let’s keep things civil. You, elf. What is it that you want?”

“I want you to leave this little boy and go back to the banal’ras where you came from,” Renya said with a growl.

“No! I am not finished playing yet!” the boy yelled in his deep, throaty voice. “You spoil my sport by killing my men. Now you must repay me!”

And with that, the guards and Teagan sprang up against the Wardens and their company.

“Don’t kill them!” Alistair shouted. It was easier said than done.

Teagan lunged at Renya.

“Ir abelas. I am so sorry,” she said as she twisted around him and bashed the pommel of her sword onto the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. Very soon the demon’s puppets lay on the ground.

“Where’s Connor?” Renya asked, looking around wildly.

“Teagan!” Isolde cried, running toward the bann. He was pulling himself off the floor, groaning and rubbing the back of his head. “Andraste’s mercy, I would never have forgiven myself if you had been hurt!”

“I am much better now for not being under a demon’s control,” he said weakly. He looked at Renya, still rubbing his head. “My thanks to you, Renya.”

“Any time,” Renya said with some amusement. He smiled.

“Please,” Isolde said, turning to Renya. “You can’t kill him. He is not responsible for his actions. He is still in there, somewhere. I just know it!”

“What are our options?” Renya asked, turning to Morrigan.

“There is a spell I could perform,” Jowan offered, stepping forward.

“You?” Isolde spluttered. “How did you get out of the dungeon?”

“I let him out, actually,” Renya said. Isolde spun on her for the second time that morning, her eyes popping.

“ _You?_ He is to blame for all of this! He’s-”

“He has as much blame in this as you do,” the elf replied testily.

Isolde’s eyes narrowed. “How dare you…”

“She is right, Isolde,” said the bann. “Your secrecy brought Jowan here. If Connor had received the education he needed, this would not be happening.”

“But… but I…” The woman collapsed into the bann’s arms, sobbing.

“I know what you must think of me, my lady,” Jowan began. “But please, let me help fix this if I can. Allow me to make up for what I did.”

His only response was a strangled scream from Isolde, whose face was buried in Teagan’s chest.

The Warden sighed and turned to Jowan. “You were saying?”

“It’s a blood magic ritual…” he began, hesitating. “I can fight the demon and there is a chance I could beat him, but it would require… blood,” he finished. The mage looked around uncomfortably. “A lot of blood…”

“How much blood?” Renya asked slowly.

“… all the blood in a human body.”

An uncomfortable silence followed this statement. Renya turned to Morrigan helplessly.

“I have heard of this,” she said. “But it requires a willing sacrifice…”

“I’ll do it,” Isolde said suddenly, pulling away from her brother-in-law. “It is my fault that Connor is like this. I would do anything to keep my son alive.”

“No.” Renya’s voice rung around the hallway. “No more people should die for this demon. There must be another way.”

“I don’t know…” Jowan began.

“Well, think. And quickly. My patience is running thin.”

“It would require a lot of mages and lyrium, and we only have access to two mages, and have no lyrium on hand…” he replied, shaking his head.

“We have to go to the Circle Tower anyway, to have the mages fulfill their agreement, do we not?” Renya asked Alistair. “Could we just ask them to send some mages here, too?”

“’Tis over a month’s journey to travel there and back,” Morrigan said. “Will the village be safe with the demon child for that long?”

“If that is your wish, I will stay with him and be able to control him. I am sure of it,” Jowan offered.

Renya rubbed her vallaslin. It would be easier and faster to just use the spell that Jowan suggested, but, as much as she detested Isolde, the woman didn’t deserve to die. And how could she kill that poor boy’s mother? She sighed. And Jowan hadn’t even guaranteed that he could beat the demon, anyway.

“We will go to the Tower,” Renya finally said. “I want as many options as possible. He is only a da’len, after all.”

“Thank you,” Isolde said. Renya raised her hand to comfort Isolde, but she flinched, so Renya withdrew again.

“We will replenish our supplies and leave right away,” she said. She looked at the bann.

“We will forever be in your debt,” Teagan replied with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Over 1,000 views!! Thank you guys so much! I'm glad so many of you have stopped by and are enjoying the story! I hope you continue to like the story as much as I enjoy writing it :)  
> Also, unrelated, I'd just like to say that I had a lot of fun writing the breakfast scene.
> 
> Translations (of new words):  
> Dareth shiral - wishing the person safe travels; a way to say goodbye when someone leaves  
> banal'ras - shadow/place of shadow. Not to be confused with "banalhan," which is the Blight or the place of the Blight's origins.
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
> Or, say hello and tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer), book us a face on our [Facebook page](https://www.facebook.com/ambigamingcorner/), or even find us on [Google+](https://plus.google.com/s/ambigaming/top)!


	25. Side Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little light conversation between party members as they all get to know each other. The Elvhen Warden seems to get along more with some than others...

They trekked along the border of Lake Calenhad for a little over a week without incident. A few darkspawn here, a few bandits there, nothing out of the ordinary. A routine had emerged, and the group had begun to get along. Or at least, to not actively hate each other.

“I have been thinking of your meeting with the bann,” Morrigan said to Renya one evening when she was standing watch. “I do not think I will ever understand human customs. All the touching!” The witch shuddered.

Renya nodded. “Like handshakes? There are so many kinds,” she said with frustration.

Morrigan nodded. “Yes, exactly! I find it offensively intrusive. We have just met and exchanged pleasantries, why must you then try and touch my hand? What does that add to the interaction?”

The elf chuckled. “I don’t know, Morrigan. The Dalish only touch their closest friends and relatives.”

“That, while still not something I desire, at least makes logical sense. It appears the Dalish traditions are, in fact, superior to humans’.”

Renya snorted and started laughing.

“I did not make a joke,” Morrigan said, looking at Renya sternly. “What exactly do you find so humorous?”

“When this is over, you must come visit my clan. They would love you,” Renya said, still chuckling.

“Would they desire to shake my hand?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then…” Morrigan hesitated for a moment. “When this is over, if we are not all dead, I may accept your invitation,” she said formally, not looking at the elf.

“I look forward to it, lethallan.”

***

“I have been wondering something, Leliana.”

“Yes?” The lay sister was pleased that the Warden had fallen into step beside her.

“I want to know why you joined the Chantry. It does not make sense.”

“Oh?” Leliana said lightly. “Are you wondering my motives for helping a Dalish elf?” As the words left her mouth, she hoped they didn’t sound as accusatory as they felt.

Renya chuckled and shook her head. “Of course I am, as I wonder about any human who is unexpectedly kind to a Dalish. But you were a successful minstrel, you said. Performed in Orlais and in Ferelden. Why suddenly leave and become a lay sister?”

_So she’s finally started to wonder._ “I… found myself sheltered from a storm in a Chantry in Orlais,” Leliana began carefully, eyebrows knit. Renya frowned slightly as the lay sister’s lips tightened and her eyes became hard. She just wanted to know what would make a human join the Chantry; she wasn’t sure why the question had elicited such a reaction.  
  
“When the storm passed I found that I… I did not want to leave.” The Chantry sister nodded and smiled easily again, and Renya felt a twinge of unease at how quickly the woman’s expression changed. “I eventually moved to Lothering. That is where I… I had my dream,” she added carefully, but she smiled when she turned to face Renya again. “I like to think that the Maker brought me here.”

“Indeed?” Renya asked. Leliana nodded, glancing away.

“Of course. We all go where we are needed, no? And what of you? You have never told me why you joined the Grey Wardens.” Leliana smiled at the Warden. She was sure the change in topic hadn’t been too abrupt, but it was hard to gauge Renya’s reaction. The elf could look so _stoic_ sometimes.

“Hm.” Renya faced Leliana seriously. “I suppose you want to hear that I felt for the plight of the humans and wanted to save them, abandoning my clan and my friends for strangers who would kill me as soon as look at me?”

“I was trying to make conversation,” Leliana said, a little offended. “You don’t need to make fun of me so.”

“I am not making fun of you,” Renya said with a shrug. “I became a Warden because…” She considered what she wanted to say to this woman. Marathari’s words came back to her. “Because it was the will of my clan. It was my duty.”

“You do not fight for other reasons?”

Renya watched Alistair arguing with Morrigan. Her thoughts drifted back to Redcliffe, and the innocent people who had been tormented by waking dead. And Ostegar… And what of Leliana’s Lothering?

Duncan had wanted her because she had fought the taint before becoming a Warden; Marathari had sent her away so she wouldn’t die. No one had cared what Renya had wanted. She pulsed her jaw a few times, her thoughts now lingering at the Sabrae camp. In her mind she saw Tamlen’s smile, heard Merrill’s laugh… Felt the heaviness in her heart as she listened to Merrill’s sobs fade behind her as Duncan marched her away.

What could she say? _My friend and I found a cursed mirror. It killed him and filled me with darkspawn taint, so instead of letting me die surrounded by my people, my clan sent me with Duncan to become a Grey Warden in order to fight disgusting monsters that pop up out of the ground and to possibly die in the process._ Her heart pounded as she took a deep breath, frowning.

“I have a duty to the Grey Wardens now,” she answered shortly. “This conversation is over.”

Leliana watched the elf stalk off alone.

***

Renya was awoken the next morning by a voice speaking near her. She looked around and she eventually found Leliana kneeling halfway across the camp, praying.

“Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide,” she was saying. Renya tilted her head curiously. “I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond, for there is no darkness in the Maker’s Light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost…”

The Beyond? Renya frowned. She didn’t think the elven term would be in the shemlen Chant.

But Leliana wasn’t done. “Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked…”

The elf clenched her jaw. _A seth’lin templar was bearing down on her as she helped one of the elders out of a collapsed aravel. Merrill tried to intervene, but he knocked her aside with a well-aimed kick to her chest. Tamlen’s bellow echoed over the din of the fight and he ran over and bashed a “borrowed” shield into the shemlen._

_“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter,” the templar snarled, slamming against Tamlen. The human and elf fought against each other as Renya fitted and arrow and took aim…_

_“Blessed are the peacekeepers!” the shemlen yelled, bringing his sword down against Tamlen’s raised shield. The elf quailed a little under the force of the human’s blow, but remained standing. “The champions of the just!” But something about his voice was wrong. It sounded gentler than most templar, and highter. No matter. Renya pulled back on her bowstring, taking careful aim._

_“Renya…?”_

_Not now, Merrill, I need to concentrate. I don’t want to hit Tamlen…_

“Renya?”

The elf blinked, suddenly back at the Grey Warden camp. Leliana was looking at her curiously from where she was still kneeling on the ground.

“Did you need something, Re- Warden? You’ve been staring at me for quite some time.”

“Oh.” Renya gave herself a little shake. “Nae. Ir abelas, I am sorry. I did not mean to stare. My mind must have wandered…” Her voice faded as she looked away.

Leliana indicated a piece of earth next to her. “Would you… like to pray with me?”

“No.”

“I didn’t mean to the Maker,” Leliana said kindly. Her expression faltered when she saw the frown on Renya’s face. “I’m sorry, Warden. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I have never heard those prayers spoken by someone who was not trying to kill me,” Renya replied bluntly, still not looking at the lay sister.

“Oh. I’m… I’m sorry.” Leliana wasn’t sure what else to say. She certainly didn’t want to upset Renya again, but she did not want to neglect her prayers to the Maker, either. “I assure you I’m not trying to kill you, Warden.”

“Hm.” Renya gave a curt nod and turned back to Leliana. “Ara seranna-man, Leliana. Excuse me. I did not mean to interrupt your praying.”

Without waiting for a reply, Renya turned and walked back to her bedroll. She sat smartly and rested her hands on her knees, staring in the direction of the forest. As Leliana watched, Renya took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began to meditate with a very troubled look on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little down-time as the crew treks across Ferelden... What do you think? While I think Renya's reactions to Leliana are justified, what about her interactions with Morrigan thus far? Is her like of the witch believable?
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
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	26. Something Stolen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What starts off as a quiet night in camp turns deadly.

Renya found Leliana staring at her interestedly a few days later. “Yes?” the Warden asked, wondering if she would now be adding Leliana to her list of companions who enjoyed studying her.

“I was thinking about what that Revered Mother said about the Dalish elves, and I think I agree with her,” she said, nodding.

The elf shook her head. “I do not remember what she had to say.”

“About you not being like the Dalish stories. It seems that this is true, now that I think about it. You are very caring, and not at all savage, and I’ve not seen you snatch away women and children without provocation. Or even with provocation.”

“Is that a joke?”

“No, there are people who truly believe these things. But they must not be true.”

Renya sighed. “I think there are many misconceptions… perhaps on both sides.”

Leliana hummed to herself. “Maybe if we were more willing to talk to each other, there would be fewer misunderstandings. You know,” she added. “There are many humans that would like to live more like the Dalish.”

“How so?”

“They believe it is a simpler life, away from the complexities of cities and politics…”

“So we are seen as curiosities to be studied?”

“No!” Leliana said. Was she ever going to be able to say anything right?

But Renya laughed. “I am just teasing, Leliana.” She paused. “But only a little. You are right, however,” she conceded. “There is much we could learn from each other. For instance, I heard that minstrels are also spies.”

“…Where did you hear that?”

“I do not remember.”

The sister sighed. “No. Most minstrels are singers and storytellers. You are mistaking a minstrel for a bard…” she began carefully.

“Are they not the same thing? Do they not both entertain royalty in marble courts?” Renya sounded frustrated. “There are so many human words and customs. I will never understand,” she mumbled to herself.

Leliana tutted sympathetically. “In many places these terms are used interchangeably, but that would cause confusion in Orlais,” she explained. She frowned in thought. “Bards are… much more than that. They entertain, yes, but they are also assassins, spies, seductresses, anything that the bardmaster needs. Which is anything that the client asks.”

“You seem to know a lot about this,” Renya commented.

“Well, yes. It is a common confusion,” Leliana said swiftly. “I am used to explaining it.”

Renya paused. “That sounds like an exciting life, though. Traveling the world, never knowing where you would be next or what you would be doing.”

“It does sound exciting, doesn’t it?” Leliana answered lightly.

“And your life as a minstrel is when you learned to pick locks and wield a bow and arrow, and steal knives from belts?”

Leliana nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, you pick up certain skills when you are on the road, don’t you? Yes, a woman must be able to protect herself, shouldn’t she? Yes, of course.”

Renya arched an eyebrow at the woman’s rapidly paced speech.

A raven fluttered out of the sky and landed on Renya’s shoulder. It cawed lightly, before swooping off her and shifting into Morrigan in the usual flash of white light.

“How do you do that?” Leliana asked. Morrigan smiled with self-satisfaction.

“I am a shapeshifter. I study the movements of animals and learn to become them,” she said. “Is that so odd?”

“I have heard of this. There are Elvhen who are able to perform this same magic, although I have never met one,” Renya said, interested.

The witch looked thoughtful. “I wonder if I were to speak to these elves about their techniques, if they would be similar to what I have encountered?”

“That would be interesting,” Renya considered.

“So you are not… displeased by this ability?” Morrigan asked. The Warden wasn’t sure at whom the question was directed.

“I think it could be wonderful,” Leliana said. “To be able to change into an animal at will and experience the world through their eyes? And it seems quite useful as well.”

“Hm. Yes. ‘Tis most useful,” Morrigan commented with a nod.

Alistair joined them. He brandished his maps at Renya. “Look, I think we can make it to here by tonight,” he said, pointing. “That will put us in a good line for the docks. We should be there in only a few more days. We’ve made great time.”

“We should, with how much we have been pushing ourselves,” Leliana commented. It was true. They were up before dawn and walked long after the sun had set. They all seemed to find a little more energy when they remembered the young boy at Redcliffe Castle.

“What is that?” Renya asked suddenly, pointing.

A wagon with two dwarves were standing in the road. Renya glanced at Alistair, who nodded. “Sten?”

The three of them approached the wagon.

“Hello!” said the older of the two dwarves. “I’m Bodahn and this is my son, Sandal. We’ve been trying to catch up with you since we glimpsed you leaving Lothering, that poor village…” he said, shaking his head. “Anyway, we are merchants without a home, and you are a band of well-armored travelers. My boy, here, is good with runes, and can fix them into any weapon of your choice as good as any smith in Orzammar. If you’d like to see our wares…”

Ten minutes later, Bodahn, Sandal, and their cart trailed behind the little group. In exchange for protection, the dwarves allowed them to use their cart for their supplies and promised them a discount on anything they purchased. Alistair and Renya had shared a wide-eyed look and agreed immediately. Everyone’s spirit lifted as their heavy camping packs were loaded onto the cart. Leliana chatted with the dwarves happily as they continued on their journey. The sun began to set over the lake.

“It is so beautiful,” Renya said, surprised. Alistair looked at her.

“Oh, come on. I don’t believe you’ve never seen a sunset before.”

“Not like this.”

They had reached the top of a hill, and were able to see far across the lake, instead of the little sliver that they kept in their sights to guide them. The red sun was reflected in the water, and a rainbow of colors spread across the sky. Reflected in the water, the sky went on forever.

“It is very beautiful,” agreed Leliana from behind the elf, trying to stare beyond the two Wardens who were standing with their arms touching.

“’Tis nothing more than scenery,” Morrigan sniffed.

The sister smiled at her. “I guess I am a city girl, not used to such beauty found in nature. You have been lucky to have been surrounded by this your whole life.”

“I…hm,” Morrigan said, and was silent.

The sun set and they marched on with torches, Renya leading the way without one. Her green eyes peered into the dark and she was still somehow able to pick her way down the path better than any of the humans with their torches. Finally they came to a clearing and set up camp.

The evening meal was very quiet; Alistair’s cooking left much to be desired. Renya decided early into the meal that if she opened her mouth more than necessary, the meal would not end well for her. Finally they began cleaning up the dishes, and Renya went to her bedroll, holding her stomach. Alistair began patrolling the camp, humming happily to himself, and Renya smiled with a little shake of her head. Her stomach gurgled unpleasantly.

“You too?” Leliana had come over to chat.

Renya nodded, feeling too ill to be anything but agreeable.

“May I sit with you, Warden?”

The elf glanced up at her and nodded as she indicated the empty piece of bedroll next to her. Leliana sat down delicately. Renya’s stomach grumbled again, and Leliana smiled.

“And here I was thinking Grey Wardens could eat anything.”

“I thought so, too,” Renya said conversationally. “But I suppose there is sometimes cooking just so bad…” She trailed off as Alistair walked behind them, still humming.

“Perhaps I can tell a story to make you feel better.”

“I am not sure even a minstrel from Orlais will make my stomach feel better…” Renya said, crossing her arms over her stomach to muffle another gurgle. She chuckled as it was echoed in Leliana next to her. The sister looked embarrassed for a moment.

“My apologies, Warden,” she began.

“No need. We are all victims tonight.” Renya sighed. “And it is Renya.” She paused. “Do you know any stories from Orlais?”

Leliana grinned, pleased to be asked. “Of course I do. Orlesians love their stories. I shall tell you one of my favorites…” She hesitated a moment before deciding to save her most favorite story for another evening. The elf might appreciate one that mentioned the Dalish tonight. “…the story of Aveline.”

“That sounds interesting.”

“A long time ago, a girl-child was born to a nobleman. But he wanted a son, so he told his wife to abandon the child in the woods. Before the cold could claim her, she was found by a tribe of Dalish elves, who took pity on the poor mewling thing.”

“This is truly in the story?”

“Yes,” Leliana said with surprise. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I didn’t expect to hear a human story where the Dalish did something… good.”

“Dalish are often in stories where humans are harmful to each other, or need help. They are, in those cases, seen as saviors,” Leliana explained. She was confused at the annoyed look that passed over Renya’s features. “Is there something wrong?”

“No. Please continue.”

“So the Dalish took in the child and raised her as their own,” Leliana continued with a nervous look at the elf next to her. “Aveline – for that is what they called her – grew strong and quick and clever under the guidance of the elves.”

“Of course she did.” Renya gave an exaggerated, sagely nod, to make sure Leliana knew she was trying to be funny. Leliana smiled.

“Of course she did,” she agreed, her eyes lingering on the tattoos on Renya’s forehead. “She learned to wield a sword as well as any man, could fell a deer at a hundred paces, and was as graceful on horseback as she was on foot…”

Renya listened to Leliana weave the story of the Orlesian woman, letting the accented syllables wash over her, not noticing how much she enjoyed their sound, even if she didn’t particularly care for the story.

“I’m sorry, Warden. Perhaps I should tell another story?”

“Hm?”

Leliana looked away shyly. “You have been staring into the distance for some time. I… I do not wish to bore you.”

“No, no,” Renya said. She sat up a little straighter. “Did she win the tourney?”

The sister shook her head. “I wish I could say she did. While the Dalish had been right to encourage her to enter, and had certainly shown the cruel humans the awful mistake they had made when they had left the child to die, not all were pleased with the arrival of this masked competitor.”

“What happened?”

“She won many events and won the favor of the crowd, and eventually stood against the knight Kalay in the Grand Tourney. She had bested him in the joust, and he did not wish to lose a second time. So in a rage, he tripped her and threw her to the ground, ripping of her helmet in the process. The crowd gasped as Aveline was revealed to be a woman.

“Kalay demanded that the rest of the tournament be declared a forfeit, as a woman had taken part, and this was not allowed. But the crowd cheered for Aveline. Kalay was furious, for he had lost to a woman, and now was being shamed. Kalay, blinded by rage, pulled Aveline to her knees. “Know your place, woman!” cried he, and he slit her throat.”

“Creators…”

Leliana nodded. “Yes. The son of the king was in attendance that day, and recognized Aveline’s skill and bravery, and began to see the unjustice done to the women in his land. When he became king, he re-wrote the laws of Orlais so women were allowed to become chevalier. He honored Aveline and knighted her after her death. And to this day, all knighted women revere Aveline the Brave, for she is the patron of all women chevalier.”

“That is quite a story. Is it true?”

“I am not sure. Most believe it to be true, and women chevaliers do revere Aveline. But whether she was a woman, or is a legend, or is both, I suppose we can never be completely sure, can we?”

“I suppose not.” Renya sat quietly, thinking. A long silence fell between them. “Did she…?” The elf smiled. Leliana was nodding off next to her. “Leliana…” She touched the woman’s shoulder lightly. Blue eyes flew open.

“I’m so sorry, here I am trying to…” She yawned. “Tell you stories and I’m falling asleep.”

“Do not apologize,” Renya said, rising. She offered her hands to Leliana and helped her to her feet. “It was a wonderful story, and I enjoyed listening to you tell it. But it is my watch.”

“Of… of course. I could… stay up to keep you company…”

Renya arched an eyebrow at her. “Nae, Leliana. No. You are tired enough. Let me walk you to your tent.”

***

After bidding Leliana goodnight and watching the sister retire into her tent, Renya patrolled around the camp slowly, ears twitching at the sounds of the forest. There was something out of place. The noise was far away, but she was just able to make it out. After a few more silent minutes of listening, she decided that the noise was not that of wolves or bears. The sound wasn’t… feral enough. She walked over to where Morrigan lay sleeping and crouched down.

“Morrigan!” she whispered loudly. The witch turned over.

“’Tis not my watch after yours, Warden,” she grumbled.

“There is something beyond the camp coming closer. I need someone who can be as silent as me to come and investigate it.”

Morrigan sat up. “Should we wake the camp?”

Renya sighed. “It may be an animal. That is why I want to go and check the forest beyond us before I sound the alarm.”

The witch rose and grabbed her staff. Side by side the two women made their way silently through the camp. Before they reached its edge, Morrigan changed into a raven and took flight. Renya hoped that Morrigan’s vision in the dark would be enhanced by being a bird. She took a breath and crept into the forest. She walked on, silently and alone, for a few minutes, occasionally hearing a light caw as Morrigan flew overhead again.

A sudden noise caught her attention and she spun just in time to see a large humanoid creature lunge at her. It shoved her to the ground, and Renya pulled her hunting knife from her belt and slashed at it. It fell away with a cry. She had heard another sound coming up behind it. As quickly as she was able, she jumped back to her feet and spun to face the sound. The last thing she remembered was something heavy hitting her head.

Renya awoke and found herself tied down to the ground. Her legs were tied together, and her arms were splayed open, leaving her feeling very exposed. Her armor was gone and she was instead in the tunic and pantaloons that she wore underneath.

“Bonjour,” said a voice above her. “I am glad you are awake.” The woman had a thick Orlesian accent. Renya stayed quiet, gently testing her bonds and trying not to alert the woman to her movements. The knots were very tight.

“My employer is very upset with you,” the woman continued. “You have stolen something from her.”

Renya frowned. “What have I stolen? I do not know your employer, and I am no thief.”

“What have you stolen?” the voice lilted at her. “Her pet,” it purred close to her ear. “Her nightingale.”

The elf shook her head in confusion. “I do not have any birds with me,” she said, suddenly wondering if Morrigan was nearby.

“She wants her pet returned, wants to… take care of her,” the woman said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Renya felt something cold on her jaw. It traced from cheek to chin, and Renya clenched her jaw as the knife cut her. She felt blood trickle down her neck.

“Now that was no fun,” the voice tutted at her. “I always like doing this to elves. You make the best sounds.”

“I do not have your nightingale,” Renya said again, her mind racing. She felt the woman grab her left ear and her heart jumped into her throat. Creators, this was going to hurt a lot. “I am not alone in this forest, you know.”

Instead of responding, the knife cut into her ear. Renya gasped and then bit her tongue, refusing to cry out as the woman sliced into her ear. She tried to remember how she had survived her vallaslin ceremony all those years ago. But even her ceremony wasn’t as bad as this; there was a reason elves did not have vallaslin on their ears. The cutting stopped and Renya exhaled.

“Oh, come now. Let me hear that voice. Do you sing as nicely as I hear the nightingale does? Where is she?” the woman murmured into Renya’s bleeding ear.

“I… do not… have… anyone’s… pet,” Renya strained out. “What do… you want?”

“I want you to suffer, and then die,” the voice said calmly. “Die with the knowledge that you lost. Die knowing…” The woman leaned in. “That you couldn’t save her,” she purred.

“Save who?” Renya demanded.

The woman shook her head. “You think I will fall for your act? Non, I know elves are smarter than humans think they are. Your words fool no one.”

Renya stared up at the sky and noticed that the moon was in a different place than when she had left the camp. She turned her head as much as she dared, but did not see the campfire. With a sinking feeling, she realized she had no idea where she was or if anyone would be able to find her.

“It will hurt her, you know,” the woman said. “Knowing what she has brought on you. It will stop her from continuing her plan, it will break her so she will never get up again. And then…” The woman leaned in, her perfume stinging Renya’s nose. “My master will finish the job she started.”

Something poured on her ear and Renya gasped again, a soft yell escaping from her. Before she had a chance to catch her breath, the knife was back. Mythal preserve her, it was like she was trying to cut her ear in half.

Creators… the white-hot pain was blinding Renya as she resisted crying out, refusing to give the woman that satisfaction. The knife cut deeper, and the Orlesian poured that terrible liquid on it again. Finally Renya screamed. “Nae! Mana! Ma halani!” she yelled, blood pouring down the side of her neck and pain searing into her head. The woman with the knife smiled.

“That’s it. Sing for me.”

A howl sounded from somewhere in the woods, and the cutting again stopped. “You will die,” the woman said. “And so will the nightingale. Now suffer, knowing it is your fault.”

Renya opened her eyes and saw something silver catch the moonlight before it plunged into her abdomen, was again raised, and came down a second time. Up and down, again and again. The elf didn’t know how many times she was stabbed; her existence comprised of the white-hot pain she felt and the lights dancing before her eyes. She was in too much agony to cry out again, but shuddered with each blow. She was vaguely aware of the knife being removed and of footsteps quickly retreating as the howling came closer. Something big and heavy was next to her, and Renya closed her eyes, hoping the animal would kill her quickly. She saw a flash of white light before darkness took her.

“Warden,” came Morrigan’s voice, strained. Renya didn’t respond. The witch clambered through the Warden’s nearby armor and pulled out the shortest blade she could find. Quickly, she cut the Warden’s bonds. “Do not go like this, Warden. It does not suit you,” she said seriously. “Alistair!” she called at the top of her lungs. She placed her hands over Renya’s abdomen and began to chant. She looked up at the elf and in the moonlight saw the left side of her face covered in blood, as well. “Alistair!” she cried again. “She’s here!” Crashing footsteps began to draw closer.

“You will be alright, Renya,” Morrigan said matter-of-factly, using the Warden’s name for the first time since they had met. “Or I shall pull you back from the Fade and kill you myself.”

“Morrigan? What’s… Renya??”

Sten came up behind Alistair. “What has happened to the Warden?”

“We need to get her to camp. The light will be better and I will be able to help her more,” Morrigan said sharply. Without waiting for further command, Sten hoisted Renya’s limp form into the air and strode back toward the camp with his long, loping stride. Alistair and Morrigan followed behind.

They reached the camp a few minutes later. Seeing the bleeding Warden, Bodahn quickly offered his cart and cleared a space amongst the merchandise. Sten gently laid the Warden inside, and Morrigan climbed in after her, barking instructions to Alistair to grab things from her pack. By this point, Leliana had woken up and gone over to the cart to investigate. Elgar bounded after her, beating her to the cart and whimpering.

“What has happened…?” She trailed off as she saw a bloody mess inside the wagon. Morrigan had her back to her, so Leliana couldn’t see who she was hunched over. Alistair came up behind her with Morrigan’s things.

“Excuse me,” he said, pushing past her without a second glance. Leliana saw Sten standing to the side of the cart, looking solemn and covered in blood that did not appear to be his. That left one person… Leliana stumbled and leaned on the cart, watching the world spin around her. Elgar looked at her and yipped with concern.

“What happened?” she asked in a very small voice.

“I don’t know.” Alistair had exited the cart. “All I could get from Morrigan was that they were ambushed.”

“Why did they leave the camp to begin with?” Leliana demanded. Alistair shrugged.

“Renya thought she heard an animal a little beyond the campsite, and wanted to investigate before she woke all of us. A bear is hardly worth waking everyone for, apparently…” Alistair shook his head. “She took Morrigan with her, and they were ambushed. That’s all I know.” He looked back at the cart. “I’m not asking Morrigan anything else until she’s done. I don’t want to break her concentration. Or make her turn me into a toad.”

He found himself talking to the air as Leliana hoisted herself into the cart. Morrigan looked at her briefly but returned to her task, chanting over the Warden’s abdomen. A few moments later, she nodded to a few jars she had set out.

“Mix those two and give them to me,” she said sharply. Leliana, not knowing what else to do, did as she was asked. Morrigan took the mixture from her and slathered it onto the elf’s stomach before turning her attention to the elf’s head. Leliana gasped. The elf’s ear was almost cut clean in half, and a gash ran down from the bottom of her ear to her chin on the same side.

Morrigan delicately picked up the flesh that was hanging on by a thin piece of skin and held it where it was supposed to be attached to the rest of the ear. She waved her fingers and began chanting, and Leliana watched as gold light danced out of the witch’s fingers toward the injury, sealing it. The skin was scarred still, but the ear was reattached. Morrigan performed the same healing to the other gash. Finally she leaned back.

“I have done all I can do for now,” Morrigan said, breathing heavily. She was sweating and looked exhausted. “She must fight for herself the rest of the night.” She looked at Leliana seriously. “We must continue to the Circle tomorrow,” she said.

“How can we travel with her like this?”

Morrigan sighed. “There may be a mage more talented with healing, should the need arise. While I am loathe to ask a mage of the Circle for help, we may in this case need it.”

“What happened?” Leliana asked again, staring at Renya. The witch shook her head.

“She heard a noise; thinking it was an animal, she asked me to investigate before rousing the rest of you,” Morrigan began, rubbing her face. “We were ambushed,” she said quietly. “I resumed my human form and was immediately attacked. I killed the men who tried to subdue me, and in my search for Ren – the Warden I saw another man along the path lying dead. When I found her…” Morrigan stared at the elf and shook her head. “She was restrained, bleeding, and unconscious. Until she wakes, I will not know what else transpired.”

“Thank you,” Leliana whispered. “Will she be alright?”

“I do not know. I must rest. This kind of healing is draining for someone not fully trained in the healing arts,” Morrigan said, businesslike again. She certainly looked tired, and had dark circles under her eyes. “I will be right outside the cart if she should require more assistance. I assume you wish to stay with her?” Morrigan asked, giving her a look. Leliana nodded, staring at the elf. Morrigan grunted and swung herself out of the cart without another word.

Leliana watched Renya breathe. She reached out tentatively and touched the wounded ear, at the beginning of the scar, and the ear twitched at her touch. The poultice that Morrigan had slathered on Renya was slowly being absorbed, but there was still a thick layer of the bright orange mixture yet. Leliana took Renya’s limp hand in both of her own, feeling a tear trickle down her nose as she looked at the unconscious elf. Who would do this to her?

“Nae…” Renya murmured in her sleep. Leliana froze. “…mana…” the elf finished with an exhale of breath. She took another deep breath and Leliana waited for more words, but there were none.

Leliana stroked a piece of hair out of Renya’s face, and let her fingers trace over one of the designs on her forehead. She couldn’t remember if Renya had ever explained to her what they meant. Her fingers cascaded down the pallid face to the scar that now decorated her jaw. She was still beautiful, Leliana thought firmly, as if having to defend the elf’s looks to someone else. And her ears… they were still lovely. Leliana found herself stroking the ear again, from tip to bottom, and gently rubbing the scar as her fingers passed it. Leliana’s throat tightened; she could not think this way, and was horrified at her actions.

Renya sighed and Leliana paused, but the elf didn’t wake up. Leliana leaned in close to her. The smell of forest air and pine needles mixed with the metallic scent of blood.

“I won’t let any monsters harm you,” Leliana murmured, fingers lingering on the elf’s new scars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes. Apparently the Blight doesn't produce the only monsters in Ferelden...
> 
> Translations:  
> Nae! Mana! Ma halani! - No! Stop! Help me!
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
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	27. What Happened After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wardens' party continues their trek to the Circle Tower, unconscious elf in tow. But when Renya wakes up, the quiet doesn't last long.

Leliana was jostled awake. She looked up and noticed she was still in the cart with Renya. She must have fallen asleep next to the elf, her hand resting on her shoulder. But now they were on the move. She stuck her head out of the cart and saw Bodahn and Sandal sitting on the driver’s bench, guiding two large oxen down the road. It was still dark.

“What time is it?” Leliana asked.

Bodahn startled and turned. “Good morning, miss,” he said. “It’s a little before dawn. The other knight decided we were to begin early today, and that woman with the staff agreed. They seem to think that after last night someone might be following us.”

“Indeed, we do,” Morrigan said behind her. She had swung up onto the cart and was examining Renya. “How did she fare overnight?”

“She did not wake,” Leliana said. “But she did not appear to be in pain. Her breathing is still steady.”

Morrigan was examining the remains of the orange poultice. “She has other scars here, too,” Morrigan observed, pointing.

“From templar,” Leliana answered without thinking. At Morrigan’s look, she elaborated. “They attacked her clan.”

“Hm. ‘Tis interesting that humans continue to stab elves in this area, since it does not seem to effectively kill them. I am grateful, do not mistake me!” Morrigan added swiftly, seeing Leliana’s furious expression. “I only mean to say that their actions cause suffering, not immediate death. ‘Tis possible that is their objective?” Morrigan shook her head with disgust. “But she is resting. Alert me at once if anything changes.”

Leliana nodded and Morrigan hopped out of the cart again. She resumed holding the elf’s hand, and tried to steady her as the cart jostled down the path. They rode like this well into the evening, stopping briefly for a midafternoon meal before setting off again. Apparently Alistair and Morrigan were intent on reaching the Tower as soon as possible.

“How is she?” Alistair asked, walking up behind the cart.

“She is still sleeping…”

The other Warden looked troubled. “She’ll be alright,” he said confidently. “She has to be. We have a Blight to stop.” He nodded. “Yes, she will be alright.” Leliana noted he sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

The sun set and the party continued on. Alistair stopped by the cart to offer Leliana food, to relieve her, anything, but Leliana shook her head. She refused to leave the elf. It was Morrigan who finally convinced her.

“If you stay in this cart and do not eat, you will become ill,” she said crossly. “She has slept for over a day. ‘Tis not likely she will wake in the hour you are gone.”

Leliana began to protest, but the witch shoo’d her away. “This cart cannot hold two injuried members of our group. There is only one who cannot care for herself. The rest of us should take advantage of our abilities.”

Eventually Leliana had nodded and gone to grab a bowl of whatever it was that Alistair had made for the evening meal. She didn’t have much of an appetite, and his cooking didn’t help.

“We do cooking right, here in Ferelden,” he said with a smile. “We throw everything into a pot and cook it down until it’s all one grey uniform consistency.”

Leliana wasn’t sure he was joking, especially after forcing down the rest of her meal. She returned to the cart not feeling well.

When she got there, she found Morrigan looking at the Warden with a curious expression on her face. The witch glanced up at Leliana’s footsteps. “Look,” she said, pointing.

The Warden was still asleep. Leliana shook her head, confused. “Her hands,” Morrigan said. “She folded them over herself as she slept. She is returning.”

Leliana was in the cart next to the two women in an instant. “Does that mean she will wake up soon?”

“Indeed. But what is soon? She will wake up in her own time. But the danger has passed.”

Leliana thought that the light was playing tricks on her. Morrigan looked relieved and almost… was that actually a smile? But the witch resumed her usual careless expression quickly.

“You missed most of the journey today, but the Tower is very close. We should reach it in a day,” Morrigan said, leaning against the side of the cart. She let her head rest against one of Bodahn’s crates next to her and closed her eyes.

“You are staying here?” Leliana asked. Morrigan didn’t bother opening her eyes.

“Yes,” she replied simply. Leliana made a face. But really, after everything Morrigan had done, the sister really had no reason to be angry with her. She sighed and nodded, forgetting that Morrigan couldn’t see her. She fell asleep watching Renya breathe.

***

Renya opened her eyes with a sigh. She looked around her surroundings, disoriented. She had been in a forest, and now she was surrounded by wood and canvas. Turning her head in one direction, she saw Morrigan asleep and leaning against a crate of what looked like swords. She turned her head in the other direction; a weight was on her shoulder. Renya’s eyes widened.

The weight turned out to be Leliana’s head. She was asleep on her shoulder with her hand covering the Warden’s folded ones. The scent of Leliana’s hair drifted passed her; it was something flowery and sweet, but Renya didn’t recognize what it was.

“Creators, what happened?” the elf murmured. Leliana stirred, and Renya stiffened, feeling the woman begin to stretch next to her. Blue eyes looked at her for a moment as Leliana processed what she was seeing. She sat up quickly.

“You’re awake!” she cried, startling both Renya and Morrigan, the latter knocking into the crate next to her. Morrigan moved over to examine the Warden.

“Indeed,” the witch said. “And how do you feel, Warden?” she asked crisply.

“Fine, fine,” Renya said softly, sitting up. Leliana reached to help her, but Renya waved her away. She sat, feeling her stomach gently and looking at it closely. Her hand moved to her ear experimentally. Leliana watched as Renya’s fingers found the scar, and the elf’s face fell. But she looked at Morrigan with a sad smile.

“You saved it,” she commented quietly. “Thank you.”

Morrigan shrugged, but looked pleased. “’Twas the easiest part of my task.”

Renya looked at her seriously. “Ma serannas, lethallan,” she said. “Ma melava halani. You saved me.”

Morrigan waved her hand. “The Blight will not end well without a Warden to stop it. ‘Twas just another duty in this cause.” The elf shook her head at her, smiling as the witch busied herself picking at her black skirt and pointedly not looking at anyone.

“What happened?” Leliana asked. Renya sighed, wondering where to begin.

“Are we –Renya! You’re okay!” Alistair had come over to check on the Warden. His face was exuberant. Renya grinned at him.

“Lethallin! Of course. There is a Blight to fight. I just found out that it would not end well without Wardens to stop it,” she said, glancing at Morrigan who couldn’t conceal her smile in time. She began to clamber out of the cart. Leliana tried to waylay her.

“Are you sure you should be moving?” Leliana said, filled with worry. “You should probably rest.”

“I feel fine,” Renya replied easily. She looked down at herself and rubbed behind her ear. “And I am still covered with blood. I must wash before we arrive at the Tower.”

“You could do that here,” Leliana said, unconvinced. “I could bring you the water and then be able to help… you…” she faded as she noticed her companions’ expressions.

Alistair looked confused, Morrigan was rolling her eyes and shaking her head, and Renya was looking at her with the same amused expression she had worn when Leliana had tried to return her hunting knife to her all that time ago. “…only if you needed it…of course…”

“I will be fine. It will be good to stretch my legs,” Renya decided, climbing out onto the grass. She grabbed another set of clothing, silently thanking the merchant at Ostegar, and fitted her hunting knife into her belt. Passing Bodahn and Sandal, she thanked them for opening their cart to her.

“It was no trouble at all, ser,” Bodahn said with a little bow. “It’s good to see you up again.”

She nodded at him and whistled for Elgar, who came bounding over, barking excitedly. They walked away from the camp and into the woods.

“You’re not going to follow her?” Leliana asked Alistair. The three were now standing outside the cart watching the elf disappear into the trees.

“Not a chance,” Alistair said, staring at the forest. “First of all, she’d kill me. Second of all…” He sighed. “I think sometimes she just likes to work things out on her own.”

“I should go after her.”

“No, you really, really shouldn’t.”

“But what if…”

“The Warden is capable,” Morrigan added. “We should trust her judgment. If she says she is able, she is able.”

Leliana sighed.

***

Renya and Elgar walked a little ways into the woods. The elf heard the trickling of water and followed it to a clear stream. Looking around warily, Renya took off what remained of her tunic and stepped into the water delicately. The water was freezing. Gently, she picked at the dried blood on her stomach, and sighed when she saw the new hashmarks red and shiny above her old ones. Holding her breath, she dunked herself under the water and scrubbed at her neck and ear furiously, the water and the pain waking her up and clearing her thoughts. She emerged from the water and saw some yellow flowers growing near the stream and picked a few. She crushed them and made a lather, and went back to work on the stubborn bits of blood behind her ear and in her hair.

When she finally emerged from the stream, she felt refreshed, and she stretched luxuriously. Putting on the change of clothes, Renya’s thoughts finally strayed to the Orlesian woman who had tied her down. Why would someone from Orlais track down a Dalish elf in Ferelden over a stolen bird? Something wasn’t right.

A rustle caught her attention and Renya froze, knife poised to be thrown. Another rustle came from the nearby bushes, closer than before. Elgar started to growl, hackles raised. Something began to emerge from the dense leaves. Renya threw the knife and the person shrieked, only just getting out of the way in time. The knife buried itself in a tree exactly where Leliana’s head had been a moment prior.

“Leliana,” Renya hissed. “Do not ever sneak up on an elf in a forest. It is bad luck,” she added, walking over and pulling out her knife.

“The Dalish believe it’s bad luck?” Leliana asked, her voice higher than normal.

“No, but the humans who wind up dead do.” She studied the other woman. “Why did you follow me? I said I would be alright.”

“You… you’ve been gone for awhile,” Leliana invented. “And we wanted to know if you were feeling ready to travel today.”

Renya looked at her impassively. “And that could not wait until I was back at the camp?”

“No. Well, yes I guess it could have. I’m sorry, Warden.”

The elf shook her head. “I nearly took your head off, you know,” she said, gathering her ruined clothing.

“But you didn’t. I’m faster than I look,” Leliana teased, trying for a smile. She felt relieved when Renya chuckled a little.

“Right. Another mistrel skill I am unaware of, I imagine…” She looked at Leliana seriously. “And call me Renya. I do not want to tell you again.”

Leliana smiled, her thoughts racing. Renya began walking back to camp and Elgar followed, bouncing around her.

“You’re back,” Alistair said happily when he saw Renya. While she was gone they had packed up the camp. “And you’re still alive,” he commented at Leliana with a knowing smile. She ignored him.

“Warden.” Sten stomped up to her. “You have returned.”

Renya looked up at the giant. “I have.”

“I do not understand.”

“What don’t you understand?” she asked resignedly. She had a feeling this was going to be another awkward, rapid-fire conversation with the qunari.

Sten frowned. “You appear to be a woman.”

“I… am a woman,” Renya said, matching his frown.

“And yet you are a warrior,” he said slowly. “You fought like a man in Redcliffe and were fierce in your attacks. You endured what appears to be severe torture. And yet you are a woman.”

“…and yet I am, yes.” She had no idea where this was going.

“But you are obviously a warrior,” he said again, very confused. “It follows that you cannot be a woman, as much as you appear to be one.”

“Sten, that does not make any sense.”

“So you see my confusion.”

She ignored Alistair who was following the conversation and trying to keep himself from smiling. Renya sighed. “I am both.”

“No.”

Renya just waited this time.

“Women are artisans, farmers, shopkeepers, priestesses. These are things that women do. They are not warriors.”

“I have chosen to be a warrior, Sten. Gender does not matter…” Renya began. But the qunari shook his head.

“A person is born with their race, their gender, their intelligence. They cannot choose their height or the size of their hands,” he said, raising his own massive ones.

“But they can choose what to do, who to become. That is always a choice.”

“Hm. But can you? A farmer who becomes a merchant will always be a farmer-turned-merchant, not a merchant,” Sten said thoughtfully. Leliana, too, was following this conversation carefully, except her expression was much more guarded.

“Maybe so, but your actions dictate who and what you are, Sten. I am a Dalish elf. I underwent the Joining and fight the Blight and the darkspawn. And so, by my actions I am a Grey Warden,” Renya said patiently. “But I have not stopped being Dalish.”

“Hm,” Sten said again. “That is well said, although I am not sure I believe you.”

“You do not believe I am a Grey Warden? Or an elf?” Renya asked, raising an incredulous eyebrow.

“I am not sure how you are all those things and still a woman.”

The elf blinked. “I… really do not know what to say to that, Sten. I am not about to take my clothes off for you.”

Alistair laughed and the qunari’s mouth dropped open. “That was not what I meant to convey, Warden.”

“It is fine, Sten. Let’s just go.”

“As you wish.”

***

“Wait,” Leliana said sharply. “Don’t kill him.”

Renya checked her movement. Dead mercenaries littered the ground; they had been ambushed by qunari and men alike. On top of the surge of enemies, the party found itself fighting on the side of a hill on slippery rocks. The precipice to the one side fell straight down to a narrow stream. It had been a treacherous fight, to be sure, and the elf didn’t know why Leliana would stop her from killing the last man. She gritted her teeth, hoping the Chantry sister wasn’t about to start preaching about the Maker’s mercy.

“He is no ordinary bandit,” Leliana continued. Renya arched an eyebrow. That wasn’t what she had expected.

“How do you know?”

“None of them were,” the sister continued. “Their armor is too fine, and they are well-trained. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” she demanded, looking at the man gasping on the ground. “Who are you?”

“Heh, someone who regrets taking you on,” the man said, rising. “This was supposed to be an easy job. Kill the little red-haired girl, deal with the others as I saw fit. Told me to finish the job, that it was more than only one person could manage…”

“Kill the…” Leliana frowned. “You were sent to kill _me_?”

“Why would someone want to kill Leliana?” Renya asked, still holding her longsword at the ready.

“I don’t ask why someone wants another dead. She’s not one to hire help, though. She’s usually the hired help, if you know what I mean.”

“Hm.” The elf weighed her sword thoughtfully.

“I’m in it for the money, really,” the man chattered on. Renya had the impression he was trying to buy time. “Money. Hah. I’ll be lucky to get away with my life, won’t I?”

“You will,” Renya said conversationally. The man paled.

“Perhaps he has something to offer for his life?” Leliana suggested.

“Really?” Morrigan cut in. “He ambushed us. I say just kill him.”

“No! Wait! The woman who hired me. She’s… blonde, Orlesian… Met her at one of the trading posts.”

“Blonde…?” Leliana whispered with a frown.

Renya traced the scar on her face.

“Get out of here,” she spat after a moment. “I never want to see you again.”

“Right,” the man said with a small salute. “I’ll… I’ll not trouble you anymore.”

“Warden…” Morrigan began. Renya cut her off.

“Let’s just keep moving,” she commented, not looking at anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy. First Renya and now someone's after Leliana, too?
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
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	28. To the Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions arrive at Lake Calenhad, stop for a quick bite, and then try to smooth-talk their way into the Circle Tower.

Alistair stopped walking and pointed. “Look, there,” he said. “We should stop for supper before we go to the Tower.” He was looking longingly at a cozy little tavern up a steep hill from the lake. Sten rolled his eyes and sidled away toward a man who was scrounging on the ground, sorting through what looked like huge sets of armor.

“You are always thinking of food, Alistair,” Morrigan commented and Renya watched Sten pick the man up by his arm menacingly as the man pointed off into the distance and shook his head desperately. She pressed her lips together, wondering if she should intervene.

“Well,” Alistair said staunchily, apparently not hearing the crunch as Sten dropped the man and walked back over. “We can’t rightly go to the Tower and say, ‘Hello, we’re here to collect the mages to fight a Blight, and could you please send along some lyrium with us to fight a demon? And oh, once you’re done with all that, feed us now that we’ve dropped by unannounced and wiped out all your resources.’” He shook his head. “Can we?”

Renya turned her attention off of the qunari, who was glaring at the lake, and smiled at the other Warden. “I think we can spare a few minutes for a quick meal. Ferelden will not be overrun by the Blight in the time it takes us to eat.”

And so they entered the cozy tavern and found seats. Renya and Leliana went to order food at the bar.

“Welcome to The Spoiled Princess,” the man said mechanically. “What can I – you’re Dalish!” He was suddenly alert and staring at Renya with fear. Leliana glanced at the Warden, who was looking at the man with a very fed-up expression.

“Yes,” she grunted. “And my friends and I are hungry.”

“We don’t…” The man swallowed. “We don’t serve elves here. And the templar are to be alerted to any Dalish we see, not that there are many in these parts, thank the Maker.” He laughed nervously.

Renya’s jaw pulsed and she pulled her hunting knife out from her belt. Leliana grabbed her wrist, hidden by the bar, and the elf’s eyes flashed at the interference. The sister gave her a meaningful look before turning back to the man behind the counter.

“I’m sure there is some way for us to work this out,” she said sweetly, leaning on the counter in front of him. Renya watched her, her expression carefully blank. “We will not stay here long, and we have coin to pay for our meals.”

The man looked unconvinced, but his eyes traced down Leliana’s body and back up. He seemed to share Renya’s desire to study the form-fitting armor, but perhaps for very different reasons. Leliana slowly traced her finger back and forth across the wood in front of him as if she hadn’t noticed.

“And I don’t think the templar would need to be involved at all. Do you?” she murmured with a coy smile.

“I… it’s… Rules are rules,” the man said vaguely, looking below Leliana’s eyes, somewhere around the diamond cut in the red leather. Renya pulsed her jaw, feeling irrationally angry, but Leliana laughed lightly and the elf’s ears twitched as if to catch every note of the musical sound as it passed by. Leliana leaned over the bar a little more, lessening the distance between herself and the man, and allowing a better view of whatever he was looking at. He swallowed. Renya’s pulse thundered in her ears, although she wasn’t certain why.

“Are they?” Leliana purred. The man took a deep, shuddering breath, and he went to grab Leliana’s hand, which was still resting on the bar. Renya’s hand twitched toward the counter, but Leliana gripped her wrist a little more tightly to stop her. She let the man hold her hand, smiling at him.

“But, if rules are rules,” she said now, pulling away and letting her fingers sensually slip from his. “We’ll just be on our way.”

“No! …No,” he added, a little more calmly. “I’ll… I’ll set you up nicely, just…” He glanced around nervously before leaning in and beckoning her close. Leliana obliged, looking intrigued. “Just you can’t stay in here, okay? If one of the templar come in and see you…” He shuddered at the thought.

“Of course,” Leliana said smoothly. “We do not want to cause any problems. Thank you, ser, for your generosity.”

“I’ll…” The man took a deep breath; he looked like he had just been hit on the head. “I’ll bring the food outside for you when it’s ready.”

“A thousand thanks. Maker’s blessings on you,” Leliana replied with a smile. She finally released Renya’s wrist and sauntered away.

Renya stared at the man a while longer with narrowed eyes, watching him watch Leliana walk away. Grunting, she turned and followed Leliana, passing her without a word and stomping outside the establishment.

“’Tis quite an act you have,” Morrigan said to Leliana with interest as the rest of the group rose to follow Renya. “Do you use such deceit in all aspects of your life, or only on special occasions?”

“Deceit?” Leliana asked curtly. She looked at Morrigan seriously. “Renya was about to stab a man who didn’t deserve it.”

Morrigan laughed. “I think that man would have quite deserved it. About to call a templar on her? He is lucky you were here.” But the look in the witch’s eye made Leliana very uncomfortable.

They found Renya only a few paces from the tavern, looking out over the lake with her arms crossed.

Renya was staring at the dark water. It looked deep.

She sighed. The last time she had gone swimming in a lake had been years ago. She smiled at the memory of racing Tamlen across the Brecilian lake, and Merrill surprising them both by beating them to the other side. She gave herself a little shake and returned to the present. From here, she could just about see the docks; they would have to eat quickly to make it there before dark.

“The view from the top must be spectacular.” Leliana had come up quietly behind Renya. She was staring at the tower with interest.

Renya nodded noncommittally. Hearing the rest of her group exit the tavern, she turned and joined them. A few minutes later, the man from the bar personally came out to deliver the food himself.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” he asked, his face red as he spoke to Leliana. She shook her head, still smiling. Even that action was, if possible, seductive. He nodded and mumbled out the price. Renya didn’t even bother trying to pay the man; she just handed her coin-purse over to Leliana and let her handle it.

They found a nice spot on the grass and sat down for their picnic-style meal. Leliana angled herself so she was sitting next to Renya. The Warden, however, was ignoring her to talk to Alistair, who was sitting on her other side. Leliana couldn’t help but smile as she watched the two Wardens eat like they hadn’t seen food in days, although Renya’s favoring of Alistair hadn’t gone unnoticed either. Without comment, she quietly took Renya’s empty bowl and refilled it. Renya glanced over and gave her a small nod of thanks before starting on her second helping.

“I was just telling Leliana that she has an amazing ability for manipulation,” Morrigan said a little while later when there was a lull in the conversation. Renya looked at her, impassive.

“It’s not… it’s not manipulation, really…” Leliana said, but her words sounded hollow.

“Men are willing to believe two things about women. One, that she is helpless, and two, that she finds him attractive. If you can use those to your advantage, he will never stand a chance. Do you not agree?” Morrigan smiled at her like a cat smiles at a mouse.

“I… it’s… it’s not that simple, Morrigan,” Leliana said, her heart beginning to hammer. Her eyes fell on Renya. No, this conversation could not happen. Not now, not ever.

“No?” the witch said, raising an eyebrow at her. “Then I suppose all lay sisters of the Chantry use that particular form of conversation when speaking with others? Perhaps ‘tis why the Chantry has so many followers…”

Leliana turned very red and glanced at Renya again. She couldn’t tell where the elf was looking, but Morrigan had noticed the glance and chuckled. “But perhaps ‘tis an act of charm you indeed only use when it suits your desires…”

Leliana’s blush deepened. Renya smiled and the lay sister felt her heart sink.

“Sten,” the Warden called. “What are you doing?”

The qunari startled and looked up. “I am… not doing anything of interest. I am preparing myself for entering the Tower.”

“…you were playing with that little stray kitten.” Renya grinned widely at the man. The qunari looked troubled.

“I was…”

“…dangling a piece of string in front of it, yes,” the elf cut in.

“Training it,” he grumbled.

“Why, Sten,” Leliana joined in, glad for the distraction. “You really are a big softy after all!”

“That’s right!” Renya gasped dramatically. “And I saw you stooping to smell those pretty white flowers the other day!”

“You did not see that.”

“I did,” Renya insisted.

“Hey, yeah. So did I,” chimed Alistair.

The giant man looked uncomfortable. “We will… we will never speak of this again.”

“…softy…” Leliana teased in a sing-song voice while Renya laughed. Sten huffed but didn’t say anything.

Alistair glanced up at the sky and sighed. “We should probably get going,” he said, starting to rise.

“Should we return these inside?” Leliana asked, indicating the bowls on the ground.

“No,” Renya spat, suddenly angry. “Let the shemlen come out and clean this up himself.”

“But Renya…”

“Fine.” Renya’s tone completely changed. “If you would like to return the bowls,” she said off-handedly, “do so. I am not going to help a human who would turn away a paying customer just because of the shape of their ears and because some seth’lin in a metal suit told him to.”

Maker, she was really upset about what had happened in the tavern. Feeling Morrigan’s gaze on her, Leliana nodded at the elf. “Of course. As you say,” she said.

“And you would not finish this act of yours? ‘Twould be a shame to let the man down now,” Morrigan said, eyeing her. “Or perhaps your act is not quite over, yet?” She glanced knowingly at Renya, who appeared to be unaware of the conversation happening next to her as she adjusted her swords and fiddled with her collar.

Leliana took a deep breath, trying to understand Morrigan’s angle. They had not been particularly close up until now, it was true, but she wished Morrigan would just make her point and be done with it.

“So we are done here?” Renya asked, saving Leliana from having to answer. “Good. Let us go, then.”

***

They reached the docks as the sun was setting. Renya slowed, and Alistair watched her with some concern. The Tower was going to be full of templar, and Renya knew it. A figure who had been sitting by a small boat walked over to them.

“Halt,” he said, staring at the little group. “No one is to enter the Tower. There is trouble there and none can enter or exit until it is resolved.”

“What kind of trouble?” Alistair asked. They had wisely decided that the first person the templar interacted with should not be a Dalish elf.

“That’s for Commander Greagoir to say.”

“Well… we need to speak with him, then,” Alistair said, but the templar shook his head. “We are Grey Wardens and must enter the Tower.” Renya was impressed with the command he forced into his voice.

But the mailed man in front of them looked uninterested. “I don’t know about any Grey Wardens, and it’s not for me to decide if you are able to go to the Tower or not.”

“We have signed documents proving this to be true,” Renya added with authority. She stepped forward slightly, not to intimidate but to readjust herself into as much shadow as she could.

“And I have a paper saying I’m the queen of Antiva. I’m still not impressed.”

“I thought queens were women?”

The templar looked at her with a sour expression on his face. “That may be,” he said slowly. “But you’re still not allowed to go up to the Tower, Grey Warden or no. I haven’t gotten word from Greagoir about what he wants.”

Renya waited, but Alistair didn’t say anything. She steeled herself.

“So,” she said evenly. “Shouldn’t you take us to him so he can decide for himself?”

He squinted at her. She was still standing in a shadow, hoping he wouldn’t notice her ears - or her eyes - in the dark. “Maybe we could work something out,” he said, rubbing his chin and looking over Renya’s shoulder. “That redhead there at the back, she doesn’t need to go to the Tower, does she?”

Renya felt inexplicably angry and was about to respond when the templar cut her off.

“It gets lonely out here sometimes,” he went on, looking sad and glancing over his shoulder as if to indicate how alone he was. “And, you know, maybe you could just… leave her here with me.”

“What?” Leliana pulled away a little, floundering uncharacteristially. “Er…no. I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a little higher than usual as she took in the very large templar staring at her. “I am… a poetess,” she said with force, pointedly not looking at Morrigan or Renya. “And I am not interested in anything you have to offer!” she finished in a rush.

“A poetess?” the templar said with interest. “I’ve never met a poetess before. The other men sometimes tell stories about them…when the knight-commander isn’t around, of course,” he added in a conspiratorial whisper. He leaned in a little. “He doesn’t abide that sort of talk.”

Leliana scoffed. “The stories sheltered templar tell would pale in comparison to mine,” she said with a smile. She felt better now that the templar did not seem interested in forcing the matter and she was back in control of the situation. Her heart beat a little harder when she saw Renya and Morrigan watching her with matching raised eyebrows.

“Orlesian,” the templar replied with sudden understanding. “Of course. I’ve heard rumors of the wild things you Orlesians get up to… are they true?”

“Perhaps you would like to hear my tales of debauchery and excess?” Leliana said before she could stop herself. Morrigan rolled her eyes.

“Yes, let the Chantry sister tell her tales,” the witch said under her breath. “I would be most interested in hearing the truth that lies within them, if any.” Leliana forced herself to keep staring at the templar, who appeared to not have heard. He was looking at Leliana eagerly.

“Yes! Please?”

“Pashaara. Are we crossing this lake or not?” Sten rumbled. Elgar huffed, as if in agreement.

“Well, I don’t know,” the templar said now, looking disappointed as he turned his attention onto the qunari. “Commander Greagoir would be right cross if anyone were to go over there now.”

Renya sighed. They were back here again.

“We’re here to help,” Alistair said simply. “Surely the commander wouldn’t say no to that?”

“I don’t know,” the man said stubbornly. “No, just… off with you now. Move along.”

Renya stood a little straighter. “We are Grey Wardens and we can help, and if this Commander Greagoir would want our services, he would be very upset to learn you had sent us away.” Renya could see the man’s resolve crumbling as he considered her words, and she smiled to herself. This templar was not like the ones she had encountered with her clan; he seemed much weaker-willed.

“Al-alright,” he finally said. “I’ll give you passage, but if the commander demands you leave, then off with you!”

They piled on to the little ferry and the templar pushed off. He looked at Renya carefully, who was still trying her best to stay in the shadows. “Where are you from?”

Renya hesitated. “Why do you wish to know? My business is my own.”

Apparently that was the wrong answer. The templar leaned it. “Your accent…” he said thoughtfully.

“I am from north of Ostegar,” Renya supplied quickly; that was technically true. “It is a small settlement.”

At that moment the clouds moved and the moon gave off a little more light. Renya wasn’t able to step away in time and the templar gasped, his hand on his sword.

“You’re a Dalish elf!” he snarled. He drew his sword. “How dare you try to access the Tower!” He glared at her companions. “Did you know this to be the case? You have been traveling with a Dalish heathen?”

Of course, any one of them should have realized that so far from any town, and so under the scrutiny of the Chantry, these templar would be more vicious toward elves than others they had encountered.

The ferry was silent. Renya felt Elgar bump against her leg, and felt a rumble in his chest as he growled. Alistair began to draw his sword, but Renya held up her hand to waylay him.

“We do not wish to fight you,” Renya said, raising her hands even as blood hammered in her ears. “We are here to help resolve the issue at the Tower.” Something behind the templar caught her attention, and she tried to make eye contact with Morrigan, who was standing closest to her. The witch caught her eye, and the elf glanced at the object and back again. Morrigan nodded and sidled up to Leliana, pointing as covertly as she could toward the object. Leliana then elbowed Sten gently.

“In their blood,” the templar intoned, ignoring her. “The Maker’s will is written.”

He lunged. Renya was ready, and she dove under him, narrowly missing his mailed hip. She grabbed the rudder that he had abandoned and yanked it, hard. The boat swung wildly. The templar lost his balance and fell toward the edge of the deck, but Alistair managed to catch him before he went overboard. Renya righted the ferry. She watched as her friends let go of the railings they were holding on to. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw Sten holding Elgar under his arm. The dog looked very confused.

The elf walked over to the templar lying sprawled on the deck and grabbed his sword away from him. He rolled onto his back and his eyes traveled to the steel blade hovering above his throat. Gasping, he tried to crawl backwards away from her, but found himself pressed against Sten’s unyielding legs.

The boat went deathly still. In a strange twist of fate, a templar was lying on the ground, terrified and helpless, as a Dalish elf pointed the tip of a sword at his throat, ready to end his life. No one dared to move, watching. Waiting.

Renya leaned in, keeping her eyes locked on the templar’s. In her mind’s eye, she heard the screams of her people as they were killed, remembered silently vowing to withhold mercy if she was ever given the chance she had just been handed. She pulsed her jaw, aware of her traveling companions watching her. Her lips twisted into a sneer.

“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter,” she growled mockingly as she raised the sword, preparing the death blow. The templar watched as the elf swung at him. He closed his eyes.

The loud crash of steel clattering on wood caused him to open his eyes again. The hilt of his sword lay next to his head and the elf stood above him, fury etched in her face.

“Blessed,” she snarled. “Are the peacekeepers.” Her eyes flashed.

The templar stared at her with wide eyes and open mouth, panting. She continued to glare at him with disgust. “Get up,” she finally snapped. “And steer this boat so we do not perish on the rocks.” She turned on her heel and strode to the bow.

The wretched man looked around; the elf’s companions were all staring at him, and none moved to help him off the deck. He clambered to his feet and retrieved his sword from where the elf had thrown it, sheathing it again. He then resumed his place at the rudder, and they passed the remainder of the journey without a word between them.

Renya stood in the pulpit of the boat, staring at the tower looming in the dark, letting the spray cool her. She twisted the ring on her finger furiously. She had wanted to kill him. Creators, how she wanted to kill him, to show him what it was like to fall and be helpless at the feet of your enemy. To be powerless, yielding, _begging_ , and yet not receive mercy.

But she was Dalish. She twisted the ring around her finger again. She needed to be better than the shemlen who acted on fear and anger and hatred. She was Dalish; when this was all over, she would still hold her head high.

She watched the docks of the Tower come in to view, and the ferryman skillfully drew them closer, sliding into the slip without a bump. Without a word, Renya hopped off the boat before he had a chance to tie to the dock. She waited with her back to the ferry, staring at the lit windows in the Tower. It was so peaceful here.

Alistair, Leliana, Morrigan, and Sten – still holding Elgar – stepped off the ferry and joined Renya on the dock.

“’Tis interesting how mages of the Circle, under the scrutiny of the Chantry, should live in a building shaped like a giant phallus,” Morrigan commented softly to Renya. The elf made a little noise in the back of her throat and cracked a small smile. A soft cough caught their attention.

The templar was standing behind them, looking awkward. “Shall I… announce you?” he asked, looking at all the people in front of him except Renya. The elf stepped forward.

“No, we do not require any more help from you,” she said coldly.

He nodded, still not looking at her, and stepped back onto the boat so he could return to shore. The group walked toward the stone entrance to the Tower; everyone’s eyes were drawn up to the pointy tip, barely visible in the dark.

“Renya,” Alistair said quietly.

“Not now, lethallin.”

“But…”

“Not now.”

Alistair set his jaw and grabbed Renya, spinning her to look at him. Their eyes met, and a lesser friend to the elf would have released her in fright. “There are more in there,” he said meaningfully.

“What?”

At least he had gotten her attention. “There are more templar in there. Lots and lots of them. I don’t think we can just storm in there and expect everything to be okay.”

Renya looked around at the group. “An apostate, a qunari, a Dalish elf, an ex-templar, a lay sister, and a warhound,” she remarked. “What makes you say that?”

The other Warden grunted. “You’re not going to be able to knock these templar off their feet and amaze them with your knowledge of the Chant and your self-control,” he replied testily.

She sighed with exasperation. “What do you propose, lethallin? Do you think they will be more receptive to us if you enter first? Or perhaps Morrigan, Sten, and I will wait outside while you and Leliana sort out whatever problem they are having?” Her hand went to her forehead in a well-rehearsed motion.

No one seemed to like that idea.

“What are you going to do?” Leliana asked. Renya looked at her and took a steadying breath.

“My duty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. And all this before actually getting to the tower... What do you think of Renya's handling of the templar on the ferry?
> 
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	29. Kinloch Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wardens and their friends enter the tower and involve themselves in the troubles plaguing the mages and templar. New friends join the group, and Renya goes through her first harrowing experience with a demon.

Commander Greagoir had been pacing back and forth across the foyer for the better part of half an hour. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. All those mages… But he had no choice. This was part of his duty.

The large stone door clambered open and the commander looked up, annoyed. No one was to enter or exit the tower until this whole mess was resolved.  
  
The intruders were the most mismatched band of people he had ever seen.

Two people in blue and silver armor stood shoulder to shoulder, or would have, if the woman had been taller. He didn’t immediately recognize the silver griffins emblazoned on their chests. Behind them stood a giant of a man with copper skin and white hair. Behind the giant walked another woman – very pretty, he noted, with delicately carved features and blue eyes that immediately put him at ease – who was armed but without insignia. She was standing next to… well, she was pleasing to look at as well, but Geagoir’s eyes fell on the staff hitched to her back. Maker, was that an apostate?

As they walked closer, the commander saw that the woman in the blue and silver armor had markings on her forehead that traced down the length of her nose. She walked further into the lit hallway; with a jolt, Greagoir noticed that her ears were pointed. He frowned. Dalish.

Renya smiled knowingly, seeing the man’s face darken. Alistair stepped forward.

“Commander Greagoir?” He waited until the man stopped looking at Renya. “I am Alistair, this is Renya,” he said smartly, trying to capture the crisp, matter-of-fact voice his fellow Warden employed. “We are Grey Wardens. As you may know,” he continued quickly as Greagoir looked like he was about to interrupt. “A Blight is upon us, and centuries ago…”

“Yes, yes the treaties. I know all about them,” Greagoir said. “But I’m afraid we cannot help you. There is trouble in the Tower and we cannot spare any men.”

“What about the mages?” Alistair asked.

Greagoir shook his head. “It is precisely because of the mages that we are having problems.”

“We have heard these rumors,” Renya commented now, indicating herself and Alistair. “And wish to help.” She hoped Alistair would follow along. While not exactly a lie, it wasn’t entirely the truth, either.

Greagoir turned his attention back on to her, frowning. “We do not need help. We will handle the mages and the problems they have caused. As soon as my captain comes back, I will be sending for the Rite of Annulment.”

Renya looked at Alistair for explanation. He shuffled his feet, looking uncomfortable. “The Rite of Annulment allows templar to kill all the mages in the tower in the case of…”

But the elf was done listening. She glared at Greagoir. “You would kill all the people in here?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice down. She pointed to the heavy doors guarded by templar. “Doesn’t the circle take fledg- children? Would you kill them, too?

Greagoir shook his head, annoyed. “We will kill all the mages inside. They have released abominations and begun consorting with demons. They are maleficarum and must be destroyed.”

Morrigan scoffed. “’Tis unlikely that every mage in the tower is what you call maleficar.” She looked up at the ceiling as if she could see through it. Her gold eyes flashed as the looked back at the templar commander.

“I would not expect a Dalish elf or an apostate to understand,” Greagoir replied coolly. “Demons and abominations walk the halls and desecrate the rooms as if they belong. The tower is not in our control anymore…”

“I am not the only one who seeks control, it seems,” Morrigan said, staring at the back of Alistair’s head. Alistair’s neck turned pink but he didn’t respond.  
  
At the word “Dalish,” some of the templar unsheathed their swords and held them at the ready. Renya’s ears twitched a little at the sound as it echoed around them in the stone hall, but kept her gaze trained on the commander.

Leliana glanced at Morrigan. The witch’s face was as bored-looking as ever, but she noticed the Morrigan’s fingers seemed to be shaking a little as she watched Renya. Leliana wasn’t sure if her concern was for herself or the elf. She hoped Renya knew what she was doing; the Warden had insisted that only she and Alistair should interact with Greagoir. Leliana wondered how much of that was stemming from a desire to prove to the templar the she – as a Dalish – was not afraid of them. Or perhaps she wanted to prove that to herself.

“You would kill them all?” Renya was saying with suppressed anger. “That is… barbaric.” She shook her head. For believing in a merciful Maker, these people certainly enjoyed killing those not like them.

“We are out of options. This was inevitable,” the templar snapped back.

“Telanadas,” Renya muttered, shaking her head. “Nothing is inevitable. We will go in and save the mages who can be saved. I will not allow you to kill innocent people… innocent children.” Her eyes bored into his and he swallowed. He squinted at her, not trusting the elf.

“You…?”

“And then you will fulfill the agreements signed to help the Wardens during a Blight,” Renya said, talking over him. He looked angry, and leaned in to accentuate the height different between them.

“If you go in there,” he said dangerously. “I will not let you out again until all the mages are dead or until First Enchanter Irving stands before me.”

Renya took a small step forward and stared up into the angry face, matching glare for glare. “If I go in there, I will not come out until the mages are safe,” she countered in the same tone. “Open the doors.”

Greagoir took a step back, shaking his head at them. “You wish to die for these people? Go ahead. I do not envy you the fate that awaits you inside.” He nodded to one of the guards, who grabbed the doorknob of the great stone door he was guarding. At the group’s approach he heaved the door open and let them inside.

***

The stone door boomed shut behind them. Renya took a deep breath and rubbed her vallaslin. Staying calm in the face of templar after templar was giving her a headache.

Leliana came up behind her tentatively. She put a hand on the Warden’s shoulder. “Are you alright?” She was glad when the Warden didn’t pull away from her touch.

“No,” she replied, her eyes closed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “What about any of this makes you think I am alright?” She sighed and looked at the sister. “Ir abelas. I am sorry,” she said. She opened her mouth as if to add something, but closed it again, shaking her head. “I am sorry,” she said again, looking sad. Without waiting for a response, she turned to the rest of the group, her face back to its usual demeanor.

“I assume this First Enchanter Irving is at the top of the Tower?” she asked without emotion.

“Probably. We’ll have to clear the tower of whatever is plaguing it anyway,” Alistair commented with a sigh that Renya echoed.

They continued on down a hallway until they came to another stone door. Renya tried the knob, but it was stuck.

“Is it locked?” asked Leliana.

“No, there is no lock on this door,” Renya replied, looking at it with confusion.

Sten stepped forward. “Excuse me, Warden.”

She looked up at him, but he was staring at the door. Raising an eyebrow, she moved aside. The qunari stepped up to the door, pressed his hands against it, and shoved. The door creaked in protest, but eventually gave under the qunari’s immense strength.

They came into a room with five adult mages, surrounded by small, terrified-looking children. At their entrance, the mages circled around the children, holding their staffs at the ready. Renya quickly put away her swords and raised her empty hands, and Alistair followed suit.

A grey-haired mage lowered her staff, staring at Renya.

“I know you,” she said slowly. “You were the Dalish elf recruit at Ostegar.”

Renya stared at the woman, frowning. Realization dawned. “Wynne?”

The old woman smiled and nodded. She looked exhausted. “Yes. Forgive me, I don’t remember your name.”

Renya quickly introduced herself and her companions. She indicated herself and Alistair. “We are the only Grey Wardens left…” she said sadly. Alistair nodded, looking glum.

“Yes, I had heard rumors about that… I am sorry to hear that is the truth. But unfortunately we cannot offer more help now. Uldred, one of the senior mages here, has taken over the Tower using blood magic. The whole Tower has become overrun with demons. We have been here all night trying to keep the children safe…”

“You’re a Dalish, aren’t you?” One of the little ones had run up to Renya and was looking at her with excitement.

Renya looked down at him, eyebrows raised. She smiled. “I am.” She knelt down and looked at him seriously. “You must be the one protecting everyone here?”

The boy nodded with a shy smile. He reached out and touched the markings on her nose, looking at them in wonder. Leliana held her breath, but she needn’t have worried. Renya’s smile widened and she closed her eyes and scrunched her nose, making the boy laugh and Leliana’s heart melt.

“What is your name, da’len?”

“Garrison,” he chirped, now looking at her ears. “I heard elf ears hear really really well,” he told her. She smiled.

“They do. Even if you were to whisper across the room, I would be able to hear you,” she said. She was vaguely aware of Alistair and Wynne talking to each other, but didn’t care. She finally met a human that she liked from the instant she met him, and was going to enjoy the moment as long as she could.

“Really?” he asked, eyes wide. She nodded solemnly. “Nyviel said that you should never ever touch elf ears,” he added, indicating the elven mage standing behind him. He seemed like he wanted to impress Renya with his knowledge of elves.

“That is right,” she said with a nod, winking at Nyviel. The other elf smiled. “They are very sensitive to touch.” She noticed Leliana looking at her with a shocked expression. “Elves do not like when people touch their ears,” she added, ignoring Leliana as she covered her mouth. “…so it is very special if one of them lets you.”

The little boy nodded seriously. “Can I touch your ears?”

Renya smiled and shook her head. “I am sorry, da’len. My ear was injured recently…” She pointed to the scar. “It would hurt if you touched it.”

Garrison shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you, Miss Elf.” Renya chuckled.

“That is very nice to hear, Garrison,” she said earnestly. She heard Alistair mention “Rite of Annulment” and her ears pricked up.

“So he’s sent for it. You mean to come in here and kill all of us, then?” Wynne sounded angry.

“No,” Renya cut in as Garrison, braver, tapped on the griffon on her chest. “I have come here to save the mages.” The abrupt change in her tone of voice didn’t go unnoticed by little Garrison, who startled at the suddenly-angry elf.

“There are maleficarum here, Renya. What is your plan?”

Renya rose and held the woman’s gaze steadily. “I would rather spare the lives of ten maleficar than kill one innocent person,” she said seriously. Wynne nodded.

“I respect that, and thank you,” she replied. Renya nodded politely. “I will go with you,” she said now. “I have experience fighting demons and I am very good with creation magic.”

“And I will go with you, as well, if you would have me,” Nyviel added shyly. “I must see Uldred brought to justice for what he’s done. It’s… a personal interest,” she mumbled.

Renya shrugged. “We will not turn away help where it is offered. The creators know there are many who would oppose our actions; it’s nice to have a few who support them.” She looked at a door that had what looked like shimmering water around it. “Is that where the demons come from?” she asked.

Wynne nodded. “We will have to pass through the barrier to get to the rest of the Tower. Will the children be alright?” she asked, turning to the mages who were to stay behind. They murmured an assent. Renya glanced at Sten, who nodded and walked over to the magically sealed door. He crossed his arms. Elgar was bumping against her leg, and she murmured to him in Dalish. Renya didn’t think a dog could look disappointed, but Elgar managed it. He walked to the center of the room and lay down, letting the children fuss over him with a resigned look on his face.

A tap on her stomach caught her attention. It was Garrison, who had stood by her side through the whole conversation. “Will we be safe here, Miss Elf?”

Renya smiled and crouched down again. “Yes, you will be very safe. Do you see that very big man over there?” She pointed, and Garrison glanced at Sten before nodding. “He is going to help keep you safe. But do not be scared of him,” she said with a smile. “He is very nice.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “And he likes to play with kittens,” she added in a whisper that carried across the room. Sten shook his head but didn’t comment. “And Elgar,” she pointed to the dog who was now being climbed on, “is going to stay here with you as well. You will be very safe.”

“O-okay,” Garrison said, nodding. “What about you?”

“I will be safe, too,” Renya said. “I have a lot of friends coming with me.” Garrison brightened.

“Okay,” he said again, much happier this time. “I’ll keep an eye on everyone here.”

Renya smiled, suppressing a laugh. “Okay, you do that. And let me know what happened when I get back.”

“Okay!” And with that he was off to play with Elgar, who by now was rolling around on the floor with the other children. She rose and watched the children for a moment with a doting smile. Shaking herself, she resumed her serious expression and turned to the adults.

“Are we ready?

Wynne took the lead with Alistar and readied to temporarily remove the barrior to the upper floors. Another mage way-layed Renya.

“Excuse me, Ser Warden,” she said quietly. “Please… look after Wynne.”

Renya glanced at the older mage, who was now chanting to herself.

“She looks okay to me,” Renya said with confusion.

The mage smiled. “Yes, but… a few days ago, she saved me from a demon. I got away, but she collapsed on the floor from the strain. I thought she had... she was gone. But then she got up as if nothing had happened. But something…” She lowered her voice. “Something is different about her. I am concerned that the fight took more from her than she admits. Please, Ser Warden, look after her.”

Renya considered the worried mage in front of her, touched by her caring. “Wynne will come to no harm with me if I can help it,” she promised.

“Thank you, Ser Warden. You have put my mind at ease… at least a little.”

“Renya!” Alistair called. “Are you coming?”

***

Thankfully, the first floor was fairly clear of demons. They had met one woman who appeared to be a blood mage, but she had begged for mercy, throwing herself at Renya and Alistair’s feet when they entered the room. It was Nyviel who intervened.

“Why should we allow you to go free?” she demanded icily. The woman shrunk further into the floor.

“Please, I meant no harm. I only want to be rid of templar rule and Uldred promised that to us if we followed him. But, he has gone too far. I opposed him, and now he wants me dead, too. That’s why I’m here. I tried to run, and…”

“Atisha,” Renya said, raising her hand. The woman stopped talking and looked at the Dalish elf in fear. “Your path is blocked, but we will not harm you –”

“ _What?_ ” Nyviel cut in, glaring at Renya.

“We will not harm you,” Renya said, emphasizing each word equally, holding Nyviel’s gaze until the younger mage looked away in annoyance. She turned back to the woman on the floor. “Stay here until we have dealt with this Uldred.”

The woman sighed in relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much!”

Nyviel huffed and walked away. She turned on Renya in the next hallway.

“You would let her go?” she demanded. Renya looked at her coolly.

“We will sort out the leaders before punishing their followers.”

“You can’t possibly understand. They’ve… they’ve caused so many problems. My friend, Neria…” She stopped talking abruptly. Her eyebrows twitched into a frown. “You don’t understand,” she repeated icily.

Renya pulsed her jaw, looking angry. “I understand not hurting someone who is helpless,” she snapped back, remembering pointing the sword at the templar in the boat, and her own helplessness at the feet of another templar, now long dead. She marched on, not waiting for any further comments.

Nyviel fell into step beside Alistair, still glaring at the back of Renya’s head. “She’s not one for talking much, is she?”

Alistair exhaled in a short laugh. “No, she’s a woman of few words. Makes it easier when the sharp ones are getting thrown at you; you know it won’t last long.” He smiled kindly at the younger elf, who nodded with a small grunt.

“She’s Dalish?”

Alistair looked down at her with an amused smile. “Was it that tattoos that gave it away?”

Nyviel nodded, not really listening. She quickened her pace to walk next to Renya. The Warden glanced at her.

“Renya, listen, I…”

A terrible noise, like metal scraping down stone, filled their ears, and the two elves cringed in pain. Out of the floor climbed four creatures who looked like they were on fire. Renya took out her swords with a flourish. Morrigan yelled something and the metal turned cool in her hands. Looking down, she saw the metal now seemed to be… encased in ice?

No time to think, the creatures were upon them. Whatever the apostate had done, Renya’s blades sizzled as they cut through the rage demons. The one she was fighting fell to the floor, and then exploded, sending her flying. Luckily the Warden armor appeared to be fire-resistant, so she was not too badly injured. Alistair, too, had been thrown as his demon perished. The mages were finishing off a third with little trouble between them.

Leliana was not faring as well. She had first attempted to use her bow, which was now lying smoldering on the floor, and the demon had taken advantage of the few seconds it took for her to pull out her daggers. He towered over her, swiping at her, barely missing her face as she fought for an opening. Alistair ran up and smashed his shield into it, knocking it off balance, and Renya was there to plunge her longsword into its body. It collapsed to the floor with a scream, and Alistair jumped back to be clear of the explosion. Renya followed suit, but Leliana stabbed it again to make sure it would not get up again.

Renya sprung at Leliana and knocked her out of the way just in time. The explosion was echoed by another one as the mages killed their demon, as well. Leliana and the elf crashed into a display of some sort and landed in a heap on the floor. Two suits of armor, a few books, miscellaneous magical instruments, and a bust of some long-dead mage fell on top of them. There was a crash, and the display case fell, as well, emptying its contents on them and catching on the wall just above Renya’s back, trapping the two on the floor.

Leliana tried to move, but was pinned where she was, Renya lying on top of her. Leliana’s heart was racing, and not completely from the fight that had just ended. The elf groaned, shaking her head. With a jolt, Leliana saw her fingers resting on Renya’s left ear and she pulled them away as best as she could.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” she asked breathlessly as the other party members began to remove the rubble, calling to tell them they’d be cleared out very soon.

Renya looked at her as best as she could, confused. “Did you hurt me? Not unless you are a rage demon, a suit of armor, a small statue, or a cabinet…” She saw Leliana’s look. “Why?”

“Your… your ear…”

Renya frowned. “What about it?”

“You told that little boy that it would hurt if he touched it, and…”

“Elves do not like people touching their ears. Luckily I had a built-in excuse I could use with the fledgling,” she said with a smile. “It does not hurt. Like right now? It does not hurt.”

Leliana shook her head, not understanding, until she felt Renya wiggle her ear. Without her knowing, Leliana had absentmindedly been stroking the elf’s ear with her fingertips. She gasped and pulled her fingers away again. Renya quirked and eyebrow.

“It is alright,” she said knowingly. “I have figured out that you have a thing for elves… or maybe just elf ears.”

Rubble moved, catching her attention. She looked up into the very relieved face of Alistair, who offered her is hand. With another groan, she pushed herself off of Leliana and accepted his help out of the rubble, stretching as he then helped Leliana to her feet.

Morrigan was by Renya’s side in an instant, fussing over her burns and cuts. Wynne watched her beadily before turning to help Leliana. “And your head?” Morrigan asked, reaching as if to touch it but stopping before she did.

“That helmet fell on it, but I will be fine. Unless you can do anything about a headache,” she said with a smile.

“Hm,” Morrigan returned, satisfied, before turning and walking away. The Warden glanced behind her before continuing through the hallway to the next room.

“Elves,” Leliana whispered to no one in particular, as if answering a question. She shook her head once, watching Renya and Nyviel walk side by side. “Elf,” she corrected. Her throat constricted a little, but she swallowed and continued on after the rest of the group.

***

“So you are a Dalish?” Nyviel asked two floors later. In spite of their rocky start, Nyviel had stayed close to Renya, using her magic to enhance her attacks and shield her as best as she could, much to Morrigan’s annoyance.

“Yes,” Renya replied. She looked at the other elf with a small smile. “And you are not?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Nyviel said. “I’m from the alienage in Amaranthine. My parents smuggled me out; they had saved up enough coin to buy passage for me to go to the Circle, so I could learn the ways of the mage safely, instead of the… alternative for elven mages…” She sounded bitter and sad.

“Do you miss it? The alienage? I have only ever met city elves trying to escape them,” Renya asked, changing the subject even as a little flutter of anger went through her.

“No, I don’t miss the alienage, but my family is there,” she said. She smiled at Renya. “My… clan.”

Renya nodded. “I have had to leave my clan, too.” She gestured to the people following her. “But I have found a new one; it is not the Sabrae but… I care for them all the same.”

Morrigan joined them. “It has been very quiet,” she commented. “I fear that we may be coming to something of great power.”

“What makes you say that?” Nyviel asked.

Morrigan sighed. “I can feel….” She frowned. “There is something… wrong up ahead. The magic is… not right.”

“Setheneran?” Renya asked. She received blank looks from both mages. She paused, trying to translate into the common tongue. “…Land of waking dreams? It is where the veil is thin.”

“That is exactly it,” Morrigan said, her gold eyes narrowing. “We must be cautious.”

“What would you suggest?” Renya asked.

“Caution.”

“Fair enough, lethallan,” Renya said with a smile. At Nyviel’s look, she chuckled. “You get used to it. She is really quite endearing.”

Morrigan humphed at her.

Remembering their last battle, Renya fell back until she was next to Leliana. “Your bow,” she began.

Leliana sighed. “Yes, the nice ironbark bow you gave me…” she said sadly.

“Do you… want to use mine again?”

But Leliana shook her head. “No, no. You should use it; I would never forgive myself if I caused harm to the bow that means so much to you.”

Renya was about to reply when there was a loud series of bangs coming from the front of the group. They were being attacked by mages. Wynne looked furious.

“Maleficarum!” she shouted as she cast a spell. “You have no idea the havoc you have wrecked!”

Renya, now at the back of the group, pulled out her bow and began firing arrows. Her aim was decent and only a few arrows landed slightly off their intended mark. But something was wrong. Alistair had stepped forward and appeared frozen in place. A mage was firing at him and he remained as still as stone. Renya focused her attention on that mage.

“Halam sahlin,” she said, taking careful aim. The mage fell after only two well-placed shots and Alistair was freed. Soon the rebellious mages lay dead on the floor. Nyviel was shaking her head, looking angry and resigned. Wynne looked, if possible, wearier than she had before.

“You make it look so easy,” Leliana commented as Renya swung her bow onto her back again. Renya regarded her.

“I wish you could meet some of my friends from the Sabrae,” Renya said. “You would see real marksmanship then!”

“It seems impossible that anyone could have better aim. You are nearly perfect –” She faded to a stop at Renya’s intense stare.

“Ir tel’him?” she said incredulously. She looked at the arrows sticking out of her victims at odd angles.

“What does that mean?”

“It means ‘I am not tr-…’” She sighed. “…well, its closest translation is ‘tell me again’ in the common tongue. It can also be an exclamation of disbelief.” Renya shook her head. “But let us move on.” She glanced at Leliana. “Now you should say ‘ma nuvenin.’”

“And what would I be saying?”

Renya smiled. “‘It will be as you say.’ And then I could say ‘ar ghilani.’ I will lead the way.”

Leliana shook her head, her eyes bright. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“I thought you would like to know,” Renya said with a little shrug. Without waiting for a reply, she strode off, back to the front of the procession. Leliana followed her this time.

A door crashed open, and smaller, lesser demons came pouring out. Renya found herself pressed against another door, fighting against a creature much bigger than herself. It looked like it had tried to copy a human face and failed at it, instead looking somewhat melted. It was disgusting, and Renya was glad when it finally fell. Nyviel and Morrigan were fighting side by side, and eventually all the demons lay dead. Renya looked at Alistair.

“I’m ready for things to stop popping out at us,” he said, trying to smile. Renya nodded and opened the door she had been leaning against. Wynne made a little strangled-sounding noise and she turned.

“This is Irving’s office,” she whispered, looking apprehensive. She strode in past Renya.

The office was completely ransacked. Papers were scattered and books looked like they had been pulled from the shelves. As the others looked around the office, Renya walked over to a large, ornately carved chest. Checking over her shoulder, she tried to pick the lock, but it wouldn’t budge.

“May I?” Leliana had appeared at her side. She, too, looked over her shoulder before setting to work. She picked the lock within seconds.

“Ma serannas,” Renya murmured, opening the chest silently. Inside was an old leather-bound book with strange markings on the front. She took it out and closed the chest lid carefully before opening the book and looking at the pages.

“What does it say?” she asked the redhead. Leliana looked at her, flabbergasted.

“It’s in the common tongue,” she said. Renya clenched her jaw.

“Dalish hunters… aren’t taught to read,” she said stiffly. “Only mages.” She turned the page, not looking at Leliana. The new page depicted a human raising a glowing staff high above its head.

The sister looked over Renya’s shoulder and frowned. “Well, this… this is in a language I have never seen before. Curious…”

“Are you coming?” Alistair called.

“Let us go,” Renya said, snapping the book shut and slipping it into her pack. As she left, she saw a little painted box sitting on Irving’s desk. It had what might have been Elvhen symbols on it. Renya’s eyes narrowed. With a surreptitious glance at the others, she grabbed it and gently put it in her pack, as well.

Another hallway, another large room. More bodies of poor, massacred mages. A stairwell. Another hallway, more rooms. Demons. Dead mages. Another stairwell. Renya lost count of how many floors they had gone up, but the one they were on now was the worst. These mages looked young, and Nyviel gazed down at their bodies, distressed.

“We went through our Harrowing a few years ago, all around the same time,” she whispered to Renya. She caught the lack of understanding on the elf’s face. “When we become full-fledged mages,” she explained. She sighed. “We were friends.”

Wynne was utterly depressed by the time they had reached the next floor. “They were my students,” she said to no one in particular, her eyes wide and staring.

A musical laugh floated down the hallway, and immediately everyone was alert with weapons drawn. Wynne drew her staff in front of her and she, Nyviel, and Morrigan stalked down the hallway, the others trailing behind.

They entered a room with a man and a… Renya blinked.

An unclothed woman with horns, a tail, and soulless eyes hovered about a foot off the ground. Renya shuddered as she looked at the black eyes.

“Ma inan…her eyes…” she said, sounding afraid. She didn’t need to be a mage to know this was a powerful demon. Leliana, not understanding the words but catching the tone, moved a little closer to her, pulling out one of her daggers. Alistair straightened his shield, looking wary.

The woman, who seemed to have the man in thrall, was speaking to him as if they were in a home. The woman asked the man to put “the children” to bed, and he agreed, before he… remained standing in the same place as he had been.

“A desire demon,” Morrigan growled.

“Dirthamen,” Renya muttered. “Lasa ghilan… guide me…”

“He is so happy,” the demon was saying to Wynne. “I have given him all he wanted: a family, children, a loving wife. You would take that all away?”

“Begone, demon! I cannot allow you to rule over this young man!” Wynne said angrily.

“My love, there are bandits here! They are after the children! Save us!”

Horribly, the man drew his sword, looking furious, and sprung at the group. Alistair yelled and rammed into the man with his shield, hoping to knock consciousness back into him like they had done at Redcliffe, but it was no use.

Renya jumped to his aide, but found herself pulled backwards and shaken, her bow falling off her back. Her swords were ripped from her hands and she found herself frozen as Alistair had been. The possessed man was felled and she saw the eyes of her companions fall on her. She tried to move, but the only part of her she had control over was her eyes. She prayed for whatever strength she needed to resist the demon.

“And what about you, my dear?” the demon asked, her voice a soft caress. She stroked Renya’s ear. If the elf could have tensed she would have, but as it was all she could do was swivel her eyes in the direction of the demon. Leliana’s fists clenched. But the demon wasn’t done.

“I know what you wish,” she purred close to Renya, still stroking her. “You wish to be home. I can see it here, in your mind…”

She was lying, Renya told herself. She was lying, because that was not what she wanted. Not anymore. She wanted to make her clan proud, to defeat the Blight. Her thoughts were protected. Yes, they are protected, she told herself again, remembering her vallaslin.

The scene changed in front of her. She was back home. Home! It was so nice to be amongst the green forest again. She was dressed in her flowing Dalish robes. Everyone looked so happy. Was it a feast day? She couldn’t remember. They were glad to see her. Merrill was standing in front of her, hair black like a raven and eyes gold as a sovereign. Renya blinked. There was something wrong, she thought, but couldn’t tell what. Oh, that’s right. Merrill’s eyes were supposed to be olive green. But… Renya frowned. _They_ are _green, you da’felas, look._ She wondered briefly why that seemed so strange. She pushed that thought from her mind easily as Merrill took her hand and led her over toward the aravels.

“You’re back, ma vhenan,” she murmured happily. “I have missed you so much… I’ve been so alone…”

Renya blinked, feeling suddenly guilty. Wait. Another elf was here, too, one she did not recognize, with light brown hair and blue eyes. Young, as well. She did not have her vallaslin yet… but that could not be. Renya knew everyone of the Sabrae clan. And since when did Tamlen have such broad shoulders? The hahren was standing behind her, smiling.

“It’s good to have you back, Renya…” Renya blinked again. The hahren never called her by her first name. “You have been gone for so long; it is time for you to return here and stay forever. You will even be able to undergo your bonding ceremony, should you wish it. I will allow Merrill the time away from the camp. Anything… We are so glad you are back.”

 _Bonding ceremony?_ Renya tried to remember something vitally important about Merrill and bonding, but her memories were slow to surface.

“In the clearing you showed me,” Merrill commented, catching Renya’s attention again. “It was so beautiful. Don’t you remember?”

Renya found herself nodding as Merrill grabbed her arm and leaned against her shoulder, reaching over and tracing a lazy path down her cheek with her fingers. It wasn’t like Merrill to be so forward, though, not in front of the others… Another thought tried to force its way into her mind. Why was she thinking of blue eyes? Merrill didn’t have blue eyes. But… no. _No._

The scene shifted a little without Renya’s notice. Merrill was gone from her side, and she was standing next to… _No,_ Renya thought again in wonder. It couldn’t be… it was not possible.

“Renya…”

But it was. Standing in front of her was an elf with the reddest hair she had ever seen, with clear eyes blue like the sky. And she smelled like a sweet flower than Renya didn’t know the name of.

“Renya, listen to me…” And she had an accent that was not Dalish.

“Everything is alright, Renya,” the hahren was saying. “You can have this, too, if you wish.”

Everything was alright. Finally, everything was peaceful, and she was home, and… Suddenly Renya was able to move again. She walked toward the elf with the red hair and studied her carefully. Tamlen was standing next to her, looking wary.

But… Tamlen is dead, a small voice in Renya’s mind said. Tamlen can not be here. She looked around. And Merrill’s eyes… they were gold again. She doesn’t have gold eyes, Renya thought to herself. She turned and looked at the hahren next.

“No,” she said quietly. The hahren looked surprised.

“Is this not what you want?”

Yes, yes it was. Creators, it was everything she wanted. She looked over her shoulder at her clans-members. Her eyes scanned over Tamlen and Merrill. She stared into Merrill’s olive green eyes. It would be so perfect, so much easier this way… she could live with her clan, and stay with Merrill.

_No, something is not right…_

The scene shifted once more, again without Renya’s notice.

“Is this not what you want?”

Yes, yes it was. Creators, it was everything she wanted. She looked over her shoulder at her clansmembers. Her eyes scanned over Tamlen and the nameless red-haired elf. She stared into her clear, sky-blue eyes. It would be so perfect, so much easier this way… she could live with her clan, and stay with the redhaired elf.

_No, something is not right…_

Renya blinked with sad realization. She turned back to the hahren and shook her head, her face turning ugly.

“Mythal’enaste,” she whispered, before springing at the hahren and beginning to choke her.

Suddenly she was in a stone room with a demon underneath her, its nails biting in to her as she tried to choke the life out of it. With a scream of fury, the demon threw her off, and Renya flew backwards and crashed into something soft, something that grabbed her. She struggled against it.

“It’s alright, hush,” Leliana shushed her. Renya stopped fighting immediately and went limp. Leliana helped lower her to sit on the floor as Alistair, Morrigan, and the other mages fought the desire demon.

Leliana reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind Renya’s ear. Her fingers lingered there. The elf looked up at her.

“I think I have seen enough of demons to last a lifetime,” she whispered weakly, her eyes wide and her face tight. She grabbed Leliana’s wrist.

“I am okay. Ma serannas,” she said softly, removing Leliana’s hand.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Renya patted her hand. “It is alright. I just…” Her face tightened again. It relaxed as she let go of Leliana’s hand. She turned, just in time to see Alistair deal the death blow to the demon. He turned and rushed over to Renya, now sitting slumped against a wall.

“Are you okay?” he asked with some concern. She nodded.

“Just… a little shaken. I am fine,” she assured him. “That was…” She forced herself to scoff. “She thought she knew ma vhenan’ara… sorry, my heart’s desire… but she was… far from the truth,” Renya lied, carefully not looking at anyone. At least her thoughts were protected here.

“’Tis remarkable that you fought back with your bare hands,” Morrigan said, impressed. Her gold eyes regarded the elf. “There are not many who would have been able to fight a desire demon alone, let alone fight one unarmed.”

“I was lucky you all were here,” Renya said, finally looking at her friends. “I… I really mean that.” She let the silence hang, watching Alistair, Morrigan, and Leliana look pleased in their own ways.

“Renya?” Nyviel stepped forward. “Are you… able to walk?”

The elf nodded and started to rise, her legs feeling like she had walked for days. She allowed Leliana and Morrigan to each grab an arm and haul her up. It was hard to tell which one looked more self-conscious: Morrigan because she hated physical contact, or Leliana because she always looked self-conscious around Renya.

She stood experimentally, and the two women let go of her slowly. Renya took a tentative step forward and fell into Alistair. Leliana and Morrigan reached to steady her.

“Fenedhis,” Renya mumbled, standing again. “Ara saranna-man, lethallin. Excuse me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, looking at her with some concern. He looked at Wynne questioningly.

Wynne sighed. “It is very hard to resist desire demons, and it can take a toll on the body,” she said slowly. “Most of the time another must slay the demon to free the one in thrall. I can’t imagine what fighting it personally could do to you, especially since you are not a mage.”

“I am… just tired, is all,” Renya said. “I feel like I have walked for miles.”

“Can you do anything about this?” Leliana asked, switching her gaze between the three mages. She was holding on to Renya’s arm and placed a hand on her back as she felt her wobble a little. Renya took a deep breath and leaned against her, looking exhausted.

“It is hard to come back after being in thrall from a desire demon,” Wynne said. “Most die…” She considered the elf, ignoring the indignant noises that filled the room. “But you were not under her command for long. You probably just need to rest.”

“But there is no time for that,” Renya said stubbornly, still leaning heavily on Leliana. She forced herself to stand upright. “I am fine, let’s go.” She turned carefully and slowly walked toward the door. Nyviel followed her quickly with her weapons.

“Renya?” She offered them to her.

“Of course. I would walk out into a tower full of demons with just my hunting knife.” Renya shook her head, smiling. “Ma serannas, falon. Thank you.” She replaced her equipment and began to walk again. She hated how slowly she was going, but she knew if she tried to go faster she would fall. Nyviel stood protectively on one side, and Renya was grateful when Alistair took the lead, Morrigan next to him. The group walked along the hallway slowly, so Renya could walk without assistance. From behind them, Renya saw Alistair and Morrigan speaking quietly to each other, and Alistair kept glancing behind toward her.

Leliana fell into step on Renya’s other side. Renya continued starting straight ahead, trying to keep her gait steady and her breathing even. After the demon’s vision, she wasn’t sure she wanted Leliana so close to her. But the lay sister continued next to her, unaware, not saying anything for a long time.

“What was that word you used?” Leliana asked presently.

“I am not sure. What word did I use?”

“…it was something about your heart’s desire.”

“Oh.” Renya blinked. “Ma vhenan’ara,” she said. “Vhenan is heart. Ara is… its closest meaning is want or desire, in this case. Why do you ask?”

“I just…” Leliana stared straight ahead. “I just wanted to know.”

The elf studied her closely; Leliana looked very conflicted. “So, this demon did not show you what you wanted?” Leliana asked slowly. Her heart beat a little harder. In her mind’s eye she saw Renya standing right in front of her, staring into her eyes. She had looked at her with wonder, seeming… relieved? Was that what had flickered behind the green eyes?

Alistair stopped and looked back at Renya. They had reached another stairwell. “Are you okay to climb?” he asked her. “It’s narrow. We’re not going to be able to go shoulder to shoulder.”

“I’ll walk behind you, Renya,” Nyviel offered swiftly. “I will make sure you don’t fall.” Renya looked at her, wondering why this elf seemed to have attached herself to her. She nodded with a small shrug, noticing Leliana look disappointed.

They formed a single line and made their way up the stairs. Leliana made sure to position herself in front of Renya. If the elf fell, she’d still be close by to help. With an embarrassed jolt, she realized she was walking with a little more sway in her step than usual. She felt ridiculous, but decided that, with her back to the Warden, she could pass it off as simply climbing stairs.

Poor Renya was walking behind her, trying to keep her eyes off of the swaying movement and winding up looking at her own feet, which was not helping her balance at all. She looked up again and felt a blush creep up her cheeks. They were very close together on these stairs.

“Do you think you would be able to teach me about the Dalish, Renya?” Nyviel asked from behind the Warden. Relieved for something else to attend to, Renya nodded.

“I would be glad to. The Dalish welcome elves who wish to return to their culture. The full moon is coming up,” Renya commented suddenly. “Perhaps one night we can observe the evune’nira, the chant of the moon, although that is not as nice as the daenlea’nira, the celebration of the stars, when there is no moon in the sky.”

“You worship the moon and the stars?” Leliana asked. She was not as offended as she thought she would be.

Renya shook her head. “No. We celebrate the moon that gives us light in the darkness, but the stars are special to elves,” she explained. “It is said that when elves were immortal, they first existed before the sun and moon, and so lived under the stars and studied them. Now, we believe that the ancient stars have seen all the ages, past and present, and will see the ages to come. They hold knowledge and history. The Dalish value these above all other possessions.”

“How do you celebrate?” Nyviel asked, sounding intrigued.

“Singing, eating.” Renya laughed. “Lots of eating. We tell stories and, as the night wears on, we lie on the ground and study the stars and their movements. The stars above you, and your clan around you. Those are some of my favorite memories.” She smiled as she remembered staring at the stars with Merrill and Tamlen. She had felt so small and insignificant, so humbled at being part of something so grand.

Leliana had stopped on the stairs to adjust her blades and smiled when she saw Renya’s face. “That sounds lovely,” she said quietly. They began climbing again.

“It is,” Renya replied, nodding. “The evune’nira is more of a party, with food and songs and dancing all night. Then a few hours of sleep before the sun rises and the day begins. It is wonderful,” she said, turning and smiling at the elf trailing behind her.

Nyviel smiled back. “I would like that, I think.”

Renya nodded. Her leg went out from under her and she fell, crashing into the back of Leliana’s knees. Luckily Leliana managed to catch herself before she collapsed, too.

“Fenedhis,” Renya grumbled, pulling herself up again as Nyviel and Leliana reached to help her. “Fenedhis lasa… I am fine, I am fine.”

“Perhaps you should keep your hand on my back…” Leliana offered when the elf was upright again.

“I am fine,” Renya snapped, not looking at her. To prove it, she took another step and almost fell again. Leliana caught her this time. Renya straightened and dusted herself off, as if touching Leliana had made her armor dirty. She humphed and nodded. “Fine.”

They continued walking up the stairs. The way the stairs were arranged, Renya’s hand wound up low on Leliana’s back, almost inappropriately so. Leliana felt a small shiver go up her spine at the thought. Renya’s hand moved as they walked, adjusting as they wandered up the spiral stairs and as Renya corrected for her balance. These movements kept Leliana very aware of where Renya’s hand was. Another shiver; she hoped Renya wasn’t able to feel it through the armor. Renya removed her hand without comment, and Leliana closed her eyes, disappointed and resigned. A thump ahead caught everyone’s attention.

“Door,” Alistair mumbled. “Maker, it’s dark up here.” He pounded on it for a while until it swung open. They clattered into the room and saw…

A man was lying on the floor unconscious, next to a large monster with red fleshy blobs on his body, not unlike some of the other demons they had come across. His face was distorted.

“Ah… visitors…” he said, his voice deep and slow. “I’d love to entertain you, but…That takes so much effort. Wouldn’t you like to… sleep? Just sleep here…”

Wynne pulled out her staff sluggishly. “Must… stay awake…”

“What’s… happening?” Alistair yawned, his eyes drooping. Nyviel had already fallen to the floor, fast asleep. Morrigan was hanging on to her staff, looking defiant and exhausted.

“You expect me to… sleep on a… floor that is covered… in blood…?” she gasped out, her knuckles white as she gripped her staff.

“You have come…so far,” the demon said slowly. “You must be…so very very weary…”

Renya, tired before, suddenly felt exhausted and wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep until the Blight was over. “No,” she murmured. “No I am not weary…”

Leliana was swaying where she stood, murmuring something. Renya lumbered over to her and grabbed her arm. “L-Leliana,” she said. “Get out of here… I’ll…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, the obligatory "put them in an awkward physical position" part of the story! ;) Honestly, it was quite self-indulgent. I really just wanted to have a Fibber McGee closet moment with Renya, and it just got out of control haha.
> 
> Anyway, what do you think of Renya's experience with the desire demon? Did the shifting scenes make sense?
> 
> Also, I toyed with the idea of adding an original character, and I obviously decided to create one, for a few reasons that I hope become clearer as the story continues. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
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	30. Just an Elf in the Fade, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions are trapped in the Fade, forced to live in worlds that have been specially crafted for them.

Renya looked up at the great castle before her. It seemed familiar, yet not. She walked forward, and saw some familiar faces looking at her happily. As she reached the stone pavilion before the great doors, she saw –

“Duncan?” she asked with shock. Her face split into a grin and she ran up to him. He put his hands on her shoulders and she grabbed his upper arms, staring hungrily into his eyes as they crinkled at her with pride.

“You’ve stopped the Blight,” he said in his low, assuring voice. “And defeated the archdemon. Now you can rest here with the other Wardens as Weisshaupt. You have earned it.”

“But aren’t there always more darkspawn to fight? Should we not remain vigilant?” Renya asked, remembering something Alistair had told her once. But Duncan shook his head.

“No, Renya. It is all over. We set fire to the Deep Roads and have destroyed the darkspawn homes, don’t you remember? We are all at peace now. You can stay here and be happy!” His face was positively bouant as he looked at her. “I am so very proud of you. You have done well.”

A strange thought entered Renya’s mind. “We are never all at peace,” she said slowly. “What has happened with Loghain? Who is the king?”

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” Duncan said, releasing her. “The Grey Wardens have returned victorious, and have finally gotten the respect they are owed.”

“And what about the next time a Blight comes?” As glad as she was to see Duncan, something about his words seemed hollow.

“There will be no more Blights. I told you we have eradicated their homes.”

“No… wait…” Renya said, squinting at him. “This isn’t real. There is no way to kill all the darkspawn, and…” She looked at him sadly. “You died at Ostegar.”

Duncan’s face turned ugly. “I have tried to give you everything, give you happiness, and yet you refuse it?” He drew his sword. “Very well. If that is how you want it. Have your war and your fighting. Keep your strife and despair!” And he fell on her.

It broke Renya’s heart to fight this human, the first one she had ever trusted, but she had no choice.

Birds chirping caught her attention. Looking around, it appeared that she was in a forest somewhere. Well, why shouldn’t she be? She was Dalish, after all. A part of her brain was trying to understand why her standing in the forest was strange, but that didn’t make sense. She pushed the thought from her mind.

“Renya, thank you so much for scaring away those shemlen,” Merrill said with a smile.

“Merrill!” Renya said happily. “It’s so good to see you!” She wasn’t sure why she said that, but she knew it to be true. She hugged her.

Merrill returned the hug and looked at her, pleased but confused. “It’s good to see you, too, vhenan, but we saw each other only this morning. Come on, Ashalle and the hahren wanted to talk to you.” They walked on in amiable silence. Renya had forgotten how much she missed the smell of clean forest air and wet grass, which was odd, considering she lived here.

“Who were those shemlen, lethallan?” Merrill asked presently. “They seemed… odd.”

“I don’t know,” Renya said. “But… the one with the red hair, she looked so familiar. And the big blonde one; I think I had a dream with him in it once. It was so strange…” she trailed off, frowning.

“The hahren said one was a templar. And the other… she is a minstrel. But Marathari says that all human minstrels are spies. She lied to you. You can’t trust her.” Merrill smiled wryly. “Like you can trust any shemlen…”

Renya was still frowning. “No… I know her…She wouldn’t lie… She’s nice…” she protested slowly, but she sounded uncertain.

“I’m glad they’re gone, though,” Merrill continued innocently as if she hadn’t heard. “Can you imagine? You and a shemlen? You'd be banished.”

Renya’s heart beat a little harder. No, the shemlen weren't worth that.

Merrill looked at Renya sadly. “You’re better off here with us… with me,” she whispered, taking Renya’s hand.

“Yes, I am,” Renya agreed, staring into Merrill’s eyes hungrily. She could finally stay here and be happy.

“And when you left,” Merrill continued softly, squeezing Renya’s fingers. “I had no friends left. You saw how they have been abandoning me bit by bit. You have to stay…”

Renya paused. That was true, and Renya began to feel guilty. She should stay, then, and try to help. Yes, Merrill needed her. Renya nodded. “Yes, Merrill. I’m here now.”

Something about what Merrill had said was bothering her, though. “But…” Renya shook her head, as if trying to remember something from long ago. It came to her, like a dream. “How did you know what the shemlen looked like, Merrill?” she asked slowly. Merrill hadn’t been there when Renya and Tamlen had scared away the shemlen and found that terrible cave with the mirror. _Cave with the mirror?_ Another memory sluggishly vied for Renya’s attention, but Merrill’s light laugh distracted her.

Merrill squeezed her arm gently. “They were templar, don’t you remember?” she asked quietly. “We all saw them. They attacked us. They hurt you. You almost died… I almost lost you.” She kissed Renya’s cheek. “But you’re safe now. They’re gone. You can’t leave me again, Renya. You just can’t…”

Renya had stopped listening. Merrill’s words were disconcerting, although Renya couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. It was like she was trying to stitch two very different pieces of fabric together and convince Renya it was all the same. But that didn’t make sense… Merrill wouldn’t lie to her.

And she had said something about a templar attack… Renya squinted her eyes at a far-off tree. Something about a templar attack seemed vitally important to remember right now. A tower… why would she be thinking of templar in a tower? She didn’t know where templar lived.

Renya felt the color drain from her face as she realized what was going on. “This is all a dream,” she said sadly.

But Merrill laughed. “All a dream? It seems like a dream, doesn’t it? We finally have our own lands and the shemlen will no longer bother us.”

Renya shook her head. Her thoughts were clearer now. “No, Merrill. Maybe we will find each other again one day, but when that happens I want it to be in the waking world.” She fiddled with her belt.

Merrill’s face shattered. “Renya, what are you saying?” she asked, tears welling in her eyes. She stroked Renya’s face gently. “We have found each other again. We’re here, we can be together forever.” She put her hands on Renya’s shoulders, and Renya felt the familiar tingle of power that came with Merrill’s touch. Merrill leaned in. “You just have to stay with me…” she murmured as she drifted closer, eyes closing.

Merrill gasped and her eyes sprung open. She looked down and saw Renya’s hunting knife buried in her chest. Renya’s hand was shaking as she gripped the handle tightly and pulled the blade out again. She watched as Merrill crumpled onto the ground, bleeding. Tears trickled down Renya’s face.

“Ir abelas, ma vhenan. I’m so sorry.”

***

“You made it out,” a man said with surprise.

Renya turned warily. She was standing on a hovering brown piece of earth in a hazy, faded world.

“Who are you?”

“I am Niall, a mage here in the Tower. Or, I was,” he added sadly. “I have been stuck here for so long, I do not think I can ever return…”

A little flurry of panic rose in Renya’s chest. “Are there others here?”

The man nodded. “You must defeat the sloth demon to wake them, but…” he leaned in close. “You must save your friends from their nightmares, first. They are trapped in them, reliving their hopes, their regrets, their fears…” He shuddred.

Renya clenched her jaw. She had experienced enough nightmares of her own today, she wasn’t sure she could handle dealing with anyone else’s.

“How do I do this?”

Niall pointed. “Through that doorway, you can access different parts of the Fade. Your friends should be scattered around in this area.”

“What if they aren’t? I thought the Fade was very large.”

“It is, but the sloth demon’s domain is not the entire Fade. Your friends will be somewhere relatively close by,” Niall said, shrugging. Renya eyed him.

“And what are you going to do?”

The man sighed. “I cannot fight the sloth demon. I will wait here until you return. Perhaps, with his defeat, I will be freed, as well.”

“Very well, Niall. I will return,” Renya said confidently. _I hope_ , she added to herself. She walked over to the doorway the mage had indicated. It looked purple and hazy, and Renya took a deep breath before stepping through it.

***

“Hello?” Renya called. She was standing in Irving’s office, but it was much more tidy than it had been the last time she had been there. The door opened and Wynne walked in with Nyviel, closing the door behind them.

“Shouldn’t we… wait for Enchanter Irving?” Nyviel asked. Wynne shook her head, smiling slightly.

“I suppose we should, but I think I can ruin the surprise in this circumstance,” she said. “We’ve decided to make you an apprentice enchanter.”

Nyviel’s mouth dropped open and her eyes lit up. “Really? Me?”

“You’ve certainly earned it,” Wynne continued proudly. “I know it’s been hard, watching so many others get picked over you. You must have thought that being so quiet meant no one noticed your work. But that’s been far from the case.”

Nyviel was grinning widely now. “I… I can’t believe it. Thank you!”

“So no more talk of the Dalish now, right?”

And as quickly as it had appeared, Nyviel’s smile faltered. Renya’s ears pricked up.

“How did you know about that?”

“I’ve noticed many things, dear. How alone you’ve been, studying in the library. How no one walks with you from class to class. It’s only natural for someone like you to have thoughts of trying to find a place to belong. But that place it here.”

Renya frowned, but Nyviel was nodding slowly.

“And we’ve worked it out with Neria. If she stays on the same track as she is, she’ll join you in a few years. She specifically asked.”

“Oh,” Nyviel said, looking surprised. “I… I hadn’t expected that.”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Wynne replied with a small smile. “To find that place where everything is how it’s supposed to be?”

Renya hesitated only a moment before steppig forward. “Things are not ever as they are supposed to be,” she said, her heart clenching as she remembered her conversation with Duncan in her own nightmare. Nyviel and Wynne looked at her.

“Ah. But it doesn’t matter what anyone else says, now,” Wynne said, turning back to Nyviel. “Because you’re finally going to be an enchanter.”

“I don’t… who are you?” Nyviel asked, crossing her arms. “You look like… But… you’re not Neria…”

“I am not Neria. I am Renya,” the Warden said with a little shrug.

“…Renya?”

“She is not worth your time,” Wynne said, handing a piece of paper to Nyviel. “She is scheduled to be made Tranquil. She is dangerous to you, me, and everyone here.” But her voice sounded wrong. Nyviel looked at the paper and then frowned, glancing between Wynne and Renya.

“We are in the Fade,” Renya said bluntly, not knowing or caring what "tranquil" meant. “There was that demon, do you remember? And a man lying on the ground…”

“A man on the ground…? Oh… He… he looked familiar…” Realization dawned. “Niall…” Nyviel’s frown deepened and she turned to Wynne. “Begone, demon,” she said forcefully as the paper disappeared from her hand. “I will not entertain your temptations anymore!”

Wynne sprung at her with a howl, transforming into a beast as she did so, but she vanished into a puff of smoke at Nyviel’s shouted spell. She looked at the spot where Wynne had stood.

“I just wanted to feel like I belonged,” she said sadly before turning to Renya. “I’m so glad you came. Thank you,” she added with a small smile. “I’ll see you when I wake.” And with that, she closed her eyes and began to fade away.

Renya watched as the scene faded around her until she was standing on a floating plot of land. Another portal appeared next to her and she took a steadying breath before stepping through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wanted the nightmares to be a little more tailored to each Warden, because while no darkspawn, etc., would be a Heaven for a Grey Warden, they each came from such different (and sometimes depressing) backstories that there was a lot of opportunity to tempt them in more "meaningful" ways. Anyway... I had a ton of fun coming up with Renya and Nyviel's dreams, and we'll jump into some other folk's heads later. 
> 
> I do think it's easier for mages to realize/be persuaded that they're in the fade, but if Nyviel's reaction to Renya seemed abrupt, let me know!
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
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	31. Just an Elf in the Fade, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More dreams to ensnare our heroes...

“Sister Leliana,” the Revered Mother said. “You have been telling lies. Your vision was nothing more than a dream. How dare you tell others that the Maker has spoken to you? You are a common lay sister, nothing more.”

“I am sorry, Mother,” Leliana murmured, kneeling and rocking, as if praying.

“You must offer repentance for your sins. It is the Maker’s wish,” the Mother continued.

Obediently, Leliana began to pray. “Though all around me is shadow,” she chanted, “yet shall the Maker be my guide…”

“Yet you think the Maker guides you now?” the Revered Mother asked. Leliana looked up. She was met with a very… familiar face. The woman’s black hair fell around her face like a curtain, and her dark eyes held glints of gold in them that made Leliana’s heart flutter. As soon as she thought this, she felt her pulse increase. _No,_ she thought. _I do not want this anymore._

“Leliana,” the Mother said, leaning down and tilting the sister’s chin up, her accent suddenly turning Orlesian. “What is it that you do? You were always in love with things that left you. Yet now you pretend the Maker will stay with you?”

“I… I can only pray, Mother…”

“What is it you wish, child?”

“For… for forgiveness, Mother.”

“For what?”

Leliana swallowed hard. “For so much. For everything.”

“What is going on here?” said a bracing voice with a strange accent. Leliana looked up and saw another Chantry sister striding toward her, but the Revered Mother knelt down in front of her and cupped her face in her hands.

“Sister Leliana…” the Revered Mother cooed. “You know you must stay here. This is your salvation. No one else will have you. No one,” she said meaningfully. Leliana felt tears burn in her eyes. But the Mother wasn’t finished.

“This is who you are,” she breathed. Leliana felt a sharp pain in her side, just below her ribs, but when she looked down all she saw was the other woman’s hand resting there, as if to steady her. She nodded miserably.

“Yes, Mother. You are right…” It had been foolish to think that things could be different, that she could be different. She saw that now.

“You are guilty, child…” the woman said gently. “Broken.”

Leliana nodded miserably, her tears now threatening to fall. “Yes, Mother.”

“Tell me.”

“I… I am broken,” Leliana replied obediently, her voice a strained whisper.

“Speak up, so the Maker can hear you.”

“… I am broken,” Leliana repeated a little more loudly. A single tear cut a path down her pale cheek, followed by another one, and then another. They came faster and faster. The Mother watched her with a small smile.

“Unworthy of anyone’s love.”

Leliana nodded, looking down.

“I don’t hear your repentance.”

“I… I am unworthy… of… of love.” Leliana’s voice was soft again. She saw the other sister’s face twist in shocked anger. Yes, Leliana thought. She deserved her hatred.

“Louder, Sister.”  
Leliana swallowed. “I… I am… I am unworthy of love,” she said, her voice strained and wavering horribly.

“You must stay and find your redemption,” the Mother continued reassuringly.

“Yes, Mother.”

“Leliana, who is this?” the other sister demanded. The consonants were soft; the accent was so familiar but Leliana couldn’t place it. It made her feel guilty to listen to it, though.

“Revered Mother, I… I don’t know who this is,” Leliana said, looking between the unknown sister and the Chantry Mother.

“Do you not know me?” the sister with the accent asked gently. “We are friends…”

“Friends...?”

“She is trying to take you from me,” the Revered Mother said, stroking away the tears that trickled down Leliana’s cheek. “But she will leave you, as well, once she knows who you are. Stay here. With me. Only me. And the Maker.”

“What have you done to her?” the other sister demanded.

Leliana couldn’t understand why the other sister was so angry at the Revered Mother. The Revered Mother was helping her, guiding her to the Maker, healing her heart. She was broken… She deserved her anger and hatred…

But the Revered Mother waved her hand carelessly.

“We have given her succor when she was lost. We showed her the way, and now she is one of us.” She turned to Leliana. “We will offer you salvation.” She leaned in close to Leliana’s face.

“Salvation, yes…” Leliana murmured. It was all she wanted. She started to close her eyes.

“Andruil’s bow,” said the other sister hotly. “Get off her.”

The woman was shoved away from Leliana. Now close to the other sister, Leliana noticed she had… pointed ears? But elves were not allowed to serve in the Chantry. The scent of forest air and pine needles drifted past her. Leliana thought hard; a name went with that pleasant smell. An important name, a safe name… a name she loved. Her breath caught at that last word. Her eyes widened as the image of the Chantry sister melted into an armed, angry, and very familiar elf.

“Leliana!” the Reverend Mother called to her, catching her attention again. She sauntered over and stroked Leliana’s cheek as if nothing had happened, guiding the lay sister so she stood.

“Why are you doing this to yourself, my pet? Such fleeting things. You belong here with me. We are the same. Remember? We are the same. You must stay and ask forgiveness.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Leliana said. “I only wish to be made whole again.” They were both in their Chantry robes, and the Revered Mother looked so holy, so loving, so… alluring. _What?_

Renya blinked and shook her head. Before her eyes, the Chantry Mother transformed into a finely-dressed Orlesian lady with black hair and fathomless – and cold – dark eyes. And Leliana was back in her armor, instead of her Chantry robes. Oddly, Leliana didn’t seem to have noticed the abrupt changes.

“Leliana, this isn’t real,” Renya said quietly. “I do not know who this woman is, but she is not your friend.”

Leliana sighed. Sometimes targets would say anything to try and deter her.

“Leliana,” the Orlesian woman said, wrapping her arms around the redhead. “Do not fail me, my pet. Come, then we can spend the night together. I’ve missed you.”

“You do not have someplace else to be?” Leliana asked happily, seeming to not notice that the Revered Mother she had just been speaking to was now a completely different person. “I will have you all to myself?” She giggled as the woman pressed her lips into her neck. “Marjolaine!”

Renya’s throat constricted as the woman called Marjolaine continued to kiss up Leliana’s neck. Leliana sighed and closed her eyes, tilting her head slightly to give the woman more access. She pressed herself back into Marjolaine as the other woman’s hands creeped over her waist and up to her chest, eventually dragging across Leliana’s breasts.

“Leliana…” Renya rasped out, her heart feeling like it was being squeezed. The two women didn’t seem to hear her. One of Marjolaine’s hands snaked lower, down Leliana’s abdomen.

Leliana sighed. This was so… _familiar_ , she thought as the touch turned rough. _It always did…_ A part of her brain didn’t want this, but she couldn’t understand why. The heartache was finally over; what else could she want?

“No,” she heard herself murmur. “I don’t want this…”

Renya’s ears pricked up.

“Stay with me, my pet. Yes…” Marjolaine purred. “You like this, no? Of course you do, I know many things you like…”

“Leliana,” Renya said sharply. Leliana looked up, confused. Marjolaine released her and stood by her side. Leliana exhaled in relief.

“Do you know who this is, Leliana?” Marjolaine asked, staring at the elf. Leliana shook her head. Renya couldn’t help feeling her heart drop a little as Leliana stared at her without recognition again.

“Leliana,” Marjolaine said reproachfully. “You have your orders.” She pulled out one of Leliana’s daggers and pressed it into Leliana’s hand. “Do not disappoint me, my pet.”

“What has she done?” Leliana asked, still looking at Renya. “She does not look capable of hurting anyone.”

Renya arched an amused eyebrow.

“What has she done?” Marjolaine whispered, close to Leliana’s ear. “You think she is different, no? But she loves your stories, yes? Listens when you need an ear? Look at her, she is… dazzling, no? Is this not familiar to you?”

Leliana’s face fell.

“That is why you must stay with me. Make her go,” Marjolaine said sternly. “And you can stay here, with me, the way you want. I will be all yours, forever.”

“I… No, I…”

“Do it, then,” Renya said with sudden inspiration. “What is the death of an elf to you?” Creators, she hoped this worked.

Leliana’s face turned ugly. “How dare you…” she growled. “I am not a murderer.”

“The blade in your hand suggests otherwise,” Renya invented. This wasn’t where she had expected the conversation to go, but she would go with it, if it helped the situation.

“I…”

Marjolaine leaned forward and whispered in Leliana’s ear again. Leliana nodded, and Renya readied herself. She sprang at her, and Renya grabbed Leliana’s wrists and twisted around, disarming her. She threw the fine daggers behind her where neither Leliana nor Marjolaine could get to them.

“Elle ne t'aime pas comme je le fais, mon amour,” Marjolaine murmured with a predatory smile. Renya sighed, listening to the dark-haired woman speaking in Orlesian. “Elle vous quittera aussi. Et savez-vous pourquoi, jolie fille?”

Leliana’s face twitched a little.

“You are damaged. You do not deserve love,” Marjolaine said, switching to the common tongue. “No one likes broken things, my pet. But _I_ love you…”

Renya’s angry gaze settled on the black-haired woman. _How_ dare _she say things like that about…_

Leliana jumped at Renya again. Taken off guard, Renya crashed to the ground and Leliana tried to pin her. A few minutes of scuffling later, Renya managed to grab Leliana’s hand and held it over her ear. She gritted her teeth as Leliana grabbed it a little too hard and dug her nails in, pulling on it, but stayed silent, staring into the blue eyes that were narrowed at her and shivering with unshed tears. The elf took a deep breath.

“It is me, Leliana,” she said gently, ignoring the shooting pain in her ear. “Look at me. Don’t you remember? We were in the Tower and… I think we are in the Fade now.”

Leliana frowned as the other woman kept her hand clamped onto her ear. Something was odd. The ear looked like a human ear, but felt bigger… and pointed. Leliana noticed how green the other woman’s eyes were. Gentle fingers brushed against her cheek, wiping away the single tear that had escaped.

“No, Leliana,” the Revered Mother said behind her. “She is trying to take you from us. She wants to turn you back onto the darkened path.”

“Leliana, look at me.”

Leliana swallowed, again staring down at the woman beneath her.

“That is right,” the strange woman said encouragingly. “Do you remember what I told you? The words?” she added with sudden inspiration.

Leliana looked lost for a moment. The woman’s accent stirred a memory of strange words spoken quietly, disbelievingly. “…Ir… ir tel’him,” she said slowly, her Orlesian accent distorting the Dalish syllables and making the other woman smile. “…tell me again…”

“I do not have to, you already remember.”

“…Ma vhenan’ara…” Leliana murmured, her expression brightening.

The human’s face melted into an elf’s. Leliana smiled, pleased and relieved at her sudden appearance.

“Renya?”

Marjolaine was back – and furious. “You will not leave me!” she shrieked, lunging for Leliana.

Renya jumped up and pulled Leliana to her feet, drawing her swords. Leliana, now unarmed, watched the elf and the bardmaster glare at each other apprehensively. Renya stepped in front of her.

“You will not have her,” Renya growled, swinging her sword at Marjolaine. Leliana gasped out a protest.

“She is a demon, Leliana. You have to trust me!”

“Crois la? Trust her?” Marjolaine was speaking Orlesian again. A little snarl escaped Renya.

“Pourquoi devriez-vous lui faire confiance? Why should you trust her? You’ve trusted before; you’ve loved before! You know what happens. You should not trust anyone again, don’t you remember? And elves do not like broken things, do they, my pet? Look how perfect she is. What would she ever seen in a human like you? Stay here with me and we will heal you. You must stay, Leliana, my pretty thing…”

Renya stabbed her sword into Marjolaine, who staggered back and laughed. She glanced at Leliana and passed her the dar’misu. “You have to help me.” Noticing Leliana’s face, she added, “It is a dream, Leliana. Whoever she is in real life, you are not actually hurting her. _Leliana._ ” She grabbed Leliana’s arm and shook her. “Stay with me.”

She spun and hacked at Marjolaine again, who had pulled a sword out of seemingly nowhere and swung at Renya, hitting her on the side of the head with the flat. Leliana watched in horror as Renya was knocked to the ground, and her eyes narrowed as her gaze fell back on Marjolaine.

The elf sat up, groaning. A loud cry announced the end of the black-haired woman, who disappeared in a puff of smoke. Leliana stood with Renya’s dar’misu thrust out in front of her, looking angry and relieved all at the same time. Renya rose and walked over to her friend, who was breathing heavily and looking at the place Marjolaine had been standing. Leliana dropped the blade and buried her face in her hands.

“Holy Maker! She was a… a…”

“A demon,” Renya offered as gently as she could. She had never heard Leliana sound so distressed.

“My head feels so… so _heavy_ …”

“We are in the Fade, Leliana,” Renya said, gripping her shoulder bracingly. “This is a dream.”

“This is all… a dream?” Leliana asked, finally raising her head. Renya nodded. Leliana looked sad. “It was… terrible. A nightmare,” she said. “Everything I…” She stopped talking abruptly. “But this is a dream?” she asked again.

“Yes, you can wake up now. You will be in the tower.”

Leliana managed a wavering smile. “Thank you for finding me.” She saw Renya beginning to fade away, and wondered if there was a way for this dream to end well. If it was a dream, Rernya would not remember this; she was not in her mind, after all. She leaned in toward the elf quickly, eyes drawn to her lips, but the elf disappeared before she was able to reach her.

***

Renya found herself standing alone on the floating platform, having watched Leliana fade away as she began to wake up. She shook her head. Leliana… she had… Renya cleared her throat and strode back to the portal. Another one seemed to have opened and, after a moment’s consideration, she walked through it.

Wynne was standing looking forlornly at the ground around her. The bodies of young mage apprentices were littered at her feet.

“What has happened?” Renya asked, coming up behind them. Wynne turned. She looked furious.

“Where were you?” she demanded. “Where were you when we were attacked? You said you would help us, and then you left us! They are all dead! And it’s all my fault…”

“I… Wynne, look around you. We are in the Fade,” Renya said. The older mage shook her head.

“The Fade? I think I would know if I was in the Fade…” she said stubbornly.

The elf shook her head. “How did you get here?”

Wynne opened her mouth to answer, then closed it, puzzled. “I… I don’t know.”

“Stay here with us, Wynne. You owe us that much.” One of the dead apprentices was standing and talking to Wynne. The mage shook her head.

“No, begone, demon. I will not listen to your cries anymore.” Between them, the Fade apprentices were quickly disposed of.

“Thank you,” Wynne said. “You have saved me. I will see you back in the Tower.”

“I will see you soon,” Renya said with more confidence than she felt. Just two more. She sighed.

***

Another portal, another floating plot of land. Ahead of her, she saw two women standing and arguing. She walked closer and saw Morrigan and Flemeth facing each other, Morrigan looking annoyed and Flemeth looking… affectionate?

“And you are back at last! Let me take a look at you, my dear. Yes, you look much better for your journey, but now you can stay here and let me care for you!” Flemeth said fondly. Morrigan rolled her eyes.

“Good, you are finally here,” Morrigan said at Renya’s approach. “Help me dispose of this demon so we may be on our way.”

“You know where we are?” The apostate had so far been the only one.

“Of course,” Morrigan said. “We are in the Fade. You think my mother would be so…?” She looked at the old woman disdainfully.

“But I am your mother, my dear,” Flemeth said, looking hurt.

Morrigan looked at her disdainfully. “If you are indeed my mother, my little finger, right here, is the queen of Ferelden.

“I gave you everything, and this is how you speak to me?” Flemeth said, suddenly angry. She reared back and slapped Morrigan across the face, hard. Morrigan stumbled backwards before raising a hand to her face appreciatively. Renya jumped; the smack reverberated off of the rocks around them.

“That is more like it,” Morrigan observed. “But ‘tis too little, too late, demon. You cannot even read my mind correctly. Warden?”

Renya didn’t need to be asked twice. Quick as lightning, Renya struck the old woman with her sword, and she vanished in a puff of smoke.

“I am very done with being the Fade, Morrigan,” Renya said conversationally. The witch smiled.

“How many more of us are left?”

“Just Alistair.”

“Ah,” Morrigan said. “Hopefully he will not be too hard to convince.” She began to fade away. “I shall see you soon, Warden.” And she was gone.

***

Renya walked through the portal and found herself on yet another floating island. Alistair was sitting by a fire that had stew cooking on it, while little children ran around playing.

“Alistair!” she called, jogging up to him. He looked up and started beaming when he saw her.

“Renya! I was actually just thinking about you, and now you’re here!” he said, rising. “Odd, how that happened. But you’re here now. And you can meet my sister, Goldanna…”

A young woman, perhaps only a few years older than Alistair, came out of a nearby house and smiled at the elf. “Are you a friend of Alistair’s?”

“Yes, who are you?” Renya said bluntly. Alistair looked at his sister fondly.

“Don’t be offended, Goldanna. She’s wary of humans, and has every right to be, really. But you’re staying for dinner, aren’t you?” he added eagerly, looking back at his friend. “Goldanna can make her special dish, can’t you Goldanna? Please?”

Goldanna laughed. “Of course, little brother. And your friend is welcome to stay, as well.”

“Are you staying? Please say yes. I’m sure the children would love you. And I know you love children!” He looked troubled for a minute, trying to remember how he knew that.

“I am not staying for dinner, Alistair, and neither are you,” she said flatly.

He looked disappointed. “Why not?”

“Because we are in the Fade,” she said, too weary to be anything but blunt. “I know that sounds crazy but you have to trust me, lethallin. What is the last thing you remember?”

“I was playing with the children…”

“Before that.”

“Oh. I don’t know. I…oh,” Alistair said with some realization. “How odd. I really don’t know. I just remember feeling sleepy and…”

A crash caught both of their attention. Goldanna had pulled the pot from off the fire and was trying to heave it at her brother, looking furious.

“You will stay for supper, if I have to keep you here by force!” she yelled. Alistair ducked as she threw the pot at him. Renya jumped forward and stabbed her with her knife. Her heart broke as she heard Alistair’s gasp, but she couldn’t make him stab his own sister. Goldanna crumpled to the ground and disappeared in a puff of smoke along with the children.

“The Fade?” he asked, disappointed. “Oh. And everything was so happy. _I_ was so happy…” he sighed. “This was what I wanted. I had wanted to stay, but… this is for the better, right? Wait, where are you going? Come back!” And he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All companions accounted for! Now just to escape the Fade...
> 
> "Orlesian" translation (courtesy Google translate from French):  
> Elle ne t'aime pas comme je le fais, mon amour. Elle vous quittera aussi. Et savez-vous pourquoi, jolie fille? =  
> She does not love you the way I do, my pet. She will desert you too, and do you know why, pretty thing?
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
> Or, say hello and tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer), book us a face on our [Facebook page](https://www.facebook.com/ambigamingcorner/), or even find us on [Google+](https://plus.google.com/s/ambigaming/top)!


	32. Back to Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One final push before the companions can return to the Tower. Will they be able to resist the sloth demon's attempts to ensnare them again?

After stepping through the portal, she found herself standing in front of Niall again.

“You’re alright!” he said, relieved. “Did you find your friends?”

Renya nodded.

“Good, now go and defeat the sloth demon and get us all out of here!” He looked a little uneasy, but then nodded at her earnestly. “When you return… There are documents… On my… my body. Take them, give them to Wynne. They will help defeat Uldred.”

“Come back with me,” Renya said, reeling from the information she had just received. “We will bring you back.”

Niall shook his head. “Go!” he exclaimed, pushing her toward a new portal.

Before she could react, Renya fell through the shimmering purple barrier. She walked into a large open area, in the middle of which stood a tall creature with distorted features. Narrowing her eyes, she stepped forward. It turned and shook its head at her.

“You have been very naughty indeed,” the demon said in its slow voice. “I have done so much for you, and yet you destroy it all. All I want is for your happiness…”

“I do not need your help for that,” Renya spat. “I can make my own happiness, thank you.”

“I am… hurt. So very, very hurt. But playtime is over. Go back now and I will do better. So very, very better.”

“The only thing I want you to do is die,” the elf retorted. “You have tormented us long enough.”

“So very naughty. You will not leave here, elf,” he threatened.

“Oh, look, here we are.” Alistair had appeared behind her. With a light popping noise, Morrigan, Leliana, Wynne and Nyviel appeared next to him.

“You tried to separate us. You fear our power when we are together,” Leliana said. “But your lies could not keep us apart.”

“You have made a dangerous enemy, demon, toying with my mind so,” Morrigan growled. “’Tis time for you to die and for us to leave this wretched place!” She still had a handprint on her face from her mother’s slap.

“I’m sorry I was so angry at you, lethallan,” Merrill said, facing Renya. “Please come back. You’re the only friend I have. I was so broken when you left.”

The Warden was shaking. “Coward!” she yelled. “Face me yourself. Do not hide behind the appearances of my friends!” She charged and heard her companions followed her.

It was an interesting fight. The demon changed into a desire demon first and tried to ensnare Alistair, but he repelled her with his shield and Morrigan shot her from her air easily. Then it changed into a floating creature in flowing robes, one that Renya couldn’t identify. Nyviel enveloped it in a glowing orb that slowly brought it to the ground on its knees, screaming in pain, and Renya was able to get in a quick slash.

It then changed into a mighty ogre. It charged at them, knocking them apart from one another. It picked Alistair up and shook him before tossing him like a ragdoll. He fell, unconscious. Renya sat up where she was on the other side of the field and watched as the ogre turned on Leliana, who was the next closest. Morrigan heaved herself up and erected a glowing shield over the lay sister, her eyes catching Renya’s briefly. The lapse in focus cost her, and she too went flying, landing in a heap on Alistair. Wynne and Nyviel appeared to have been cast onto a distant piece of floating land and were trying to figure out how to get back to the rest of the group.

Renya pulled herself to her feet, her head throbbing, and stumbled her way across the field. She watched the demon transform again. The elf stopped in her tracks. In front of her was an exact replica of herself, helping Leliana to her feet.

“They are all asleep,” the impostor said playfully. “Let’s go someplace where they won’t find us.”

Leliana looked at the elf strangely. This wasn’t like Renya at all. “But…”

“Some alone time with me… is that not what you want? Why would you turn me away?” The elf stepped toward the redhead.

Renya moved to intervene, but found herself trapped in a strange glowing mark on the ground. She cursed herself and waited for the hex to fade so she could move again. While she was stuck, she could only watch silently as the imposter grabbed Leliana’s hand and held it roughly, tucking stray hair behind Leliana’s ear.

The impostor smiled, dragging her hand down Leliana’s cheek and bringing it to rest on Leliana’s shoulder. From here, Renya could see Leliana beginning to breathe heavily. The impostor wrapped its arm around Leliana’s waist, pulling her close. Renya wished the Fade was a little quieter; she was too far away to make out what the demon was saying over the din of rushing wind and… whatever those other awful sounds were.

Meanwhile, the impostor elf leaned in close to the other woman, and Leliana stiffened, her breathing rapid. Renya’s arm was around her waist. She was holding her… she was letting Leliana throw her arms around her neck. The elf slowly dragged her fingers down Leliana’s cheek again, and Leliana noticed that the calloused fingers were too rough and the arm holding her was a little too tight, too possessive. For a moment, Leliana thought she was looking at Marjolaine, but no, the tattooed forehead reassured her. That lovely scent was back, and the elf’s eyes were boring into hers. The intensity was overwhelming.

“It’s alright now, my pretty thing…”

Leliana’s eyebrows shot up. _Maker, no…_

“Come with me,” the elf purred. “You have waited long enough. We can find a place where we can stay together forever.”

Leliana shook her head. There was something wrong about this. “But, I…” She stopped as the calloused thumb rubbed against her skin. The elf drifted close to her.

“Everything is alright now…”

Leliana swallowed, hard.

“Stay with me, my Leliana. Stay with me forever,” the elf murmured, leaning in. “We can–”

Leliana brushed a piece of hair from the elf’s face, unconsciously drifting toward her. “Renya, I…”

The elf gasped, wide-eyed. Her hand slipped from Leliana’s face. Leliana heard a squelching metallic sound before the elf fell to the ground, dead. Renya stood behind where it had been, swords drawn. Her face was ugly as she glared down at the elf, which had returned to its demon form in death. She looked up at Leliana wearing the same furious look, but her face softened quickly.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“Renya…” Leliana murmured.

“Let’s go,” Renya repeated, more forcefully. She stared at Leliana, hard. “Wake up.”

***

Leliana gasped as she sat up on the cold tile. She looked around and saw the sloth demon lying dead next to a mage who also appeared to be dead. Groans around her told her that her traveling companions were waking, as well. Renya was still lying unconscious on the ground, near Leliana’s feet. Of course. The elf had tried to get her to leave the room before they had succumbed to the sloth demon. As Leliana watched, Renya stirred and roused herself. She sat up and shook her head, looking exhausted. Burying her face in her hands, she mumbled something that Leliana couldn’t clearly make out but sounded very much like swearing.

“And here we are again,” Alistair commented as cheerfully as he could muster. He cleared his throat and walked over to Renya, offering his hand. Renya took it and pulled herself to her feet. “Are you alright?” he asked seriously.

“I think I may stab Uldred as soon as I see him,” Renya grumbled. “Nevermind the talking.”

Alistair smiled. “We’re almost at the top. Here, I’ll get us up there; you’ve done enough for this place.”

Renya was too exhausted to argue, and nodded. Alistair walked off to check on the others before they set off again. “Are you alright?” she asked Leliana.

Leliana looked very pale, but she nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Hm.” The elf looked at her carefully for a moment before turning away upon hearing Alistair’s comment that they were ready to go.

“Renya…?

Renya looked back at the lay sister. Her pale skin looked, if possible, paler. Leliana reached out to the Warden and then checked her movement. “I never want to watch you die again,” she said in a strained whisper. Her eyes were red.

The elf was about to reassure her when Merrill’s voice from months ago came back to her. _“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”_ She sighed, looking at Leliana’s desperate face. She touched her cheek gently.

“Tel’enfanim. You worry about me too much,” she said softly. Her throat constricted at the words she had spoken a lifetime ago to someone else. “I am Dalish. We survive.” She smiled tiredly.

Leliana shakily returned the smile, unconsciously pressing her cheek into the gloved hand. She closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry…” she murmured. Renya removed her hand slowly, letting her fingers delicately trace down Leliana’s cheek.

“I am sorry you had to watch me stab myself in the back,” she replied, resuming her usual tone. “I can say with some certainty that is something you will probably never see again.” Looking at Leliana seriously, she added, “Come on. The sooner we sort Uldred out, the sooner we can get out of this place.” She hesitated. “Help me walk.”

Leliana smiled at the sudden shortness in her voice. Maker bless her, she was adorable when she was uncomfortable. And she hardly ever was, which made it so much sweeter to see. Leliana’s nightmare suddenly came back to her. _Broken…_

“Leliana? Are you coming?”

The sister forced a smile. “Of course.” And she began to help the elf continue the journey up the tower.

***

Up another flight of stairs. They entered a small room lined with books. Dead bodies lay on the floor, and a forcefield of some sort shimmered in the middle. A templar was inside, praying. He yelled when they came in.

“Get away! Demons, stay away!”

“Cullen?” Nyviel said softly, approaching the wretched man. “Cullen, is that you?”

“Get away!” the man yelled again. “I do not wish to see you anymore!” He closed his eyes and then opened them. “You’re still here. No… no… please, that’s always worked before.”

Wynne stepped forward. “It’s okay, Cullen. We are not shadows…”

Renya decided to let the mages handle the situation and slumped against the wall. Leliana hovered near her, concerned. The poor elf looked like she was about to fall down. She was an unhealthy color.

“Can I get you anything, Renya?” Leliana asked, reaching out to grab her shoulder before checking herself again. Renya shook her head.

“I just need to sleep. I feel like I was run over by a herd of halla.” She shook her head slowly. “I had to stab my… one of my best friends, and a trusted mentor, and myself, all in the span of an hour. I waded through everyone’s worst nightmares. I fought off a desire demon. Leliana, what am I going to do? I feel like I am going to collapse, and we have not even reached Uldred yet,” she said, staring at Leliana imploringly. She frowned. “Leliana?”

Leliana wasn’t listening. _Everyone else’s nightmares?_ If that was true, then Renya had seen… Maker preserve her. Leliana’s heart skipped a beat when she remembered what had transpired between her, Renya, and Marjolaine. Her heart skipped another beat when she realized Renya would remember what had almost happened before she disappeared. As if the last fight with the sloth demon hadn’t been bad enough…

Fingers snapped in front of her face. “Leliana? Are you still with us? Don’t make me fight any more demons today…” She said the words lightly, but Leliana only managed a weak chuckle. Her demons had come back with a vengeance, and she was not going to share them with Renya under any circumstances. _Broken… damaged…_ She sighed. After “Marjolaine’s” actions in her nightmare, Leliana couldn’t stop herself from superimposing calloused hands where the bardmaster’s had been, and pine scent where expensive perfume had lingered.

_We are the same,_ murmured a familiar voice in Leliana’s head. _We take the prizes we want, but it is all fleeting, pretty thing. That is all they are: prizes. None stay. You know this. You must learn to embrace this. None truly love you… Even I…_

“Leliana.” Renya shook her shoulder. Leliana startled.

“I’m sorry,” Leliana said, suddenly businesslike. “You must think me terrible. You have been battling demons and horrors left and right and I am here daydreaming. My apologies.”

“I do not think you are terrible,” Renya said bluntly. She turned, and it seemed that the mages had done all they could for the templar. “Nyviel?”

The younger elf walked over to her. “We’re ready to move on,” she said sadly. “Cullen was a friend…”

Renya tilted her head with interest. “You were friends with a templar?”

“Yes,” Nyviel said simply. “He was nicer than most of them. He was sweet on one of the mages, too, but…” She swallowed, looking troubled. “We’ll have to leave him here until we’ve finished with Uldred. Did you need something?”

Renya turned a little so Leliana couldn’t see her face anymore and whispered as softly as she could so only Nyviel’s ears would be able to hear her. “Stay back here with Leliana. I am concerned for her.”

“As you say.” The elf looked solemn as she nodded. She watched as Renya slowly walked away and grabbed Morrigan’s shoulder, whispering in the apostate’s ear.

“I’ll be glad when this is over,” Nyviel commented to Leliana. Leliana was staring at a spot on the floor, but roused herself with a shake.

“Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the battle with the sloth demon was a little different than in the games, but I think it makes sense that it would try and play on their emotions one last time if it couldn't overpower them. What do you think?
> 
> Also, just to pat myself on the back a bit, I really like how Renya wakes Leliana up :)
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigaming.wordpress.com) for more!!  
> Or, say hello and tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer), book us a face on our [Facebook page](https://www.facebook.com/ambigamingcorner/), or even find us on [Google+](https://plus.google.com/s/ambigaming/top)!


	33. Mages, Templars, and Elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the quest to the tower is in sight!

“Morrigan, is there anything you can do to help me?” Renya asked, coming up behind the apostate and grabbing her shoulder as she stumbled. Morrigan looked at her, barely concealing the glance shot at her shoulder.

“There is no magical cure for sleep, Warden,” she said apologetically. “While I have heard that elves need less sleep than other races, even you are not immune to the rest needed after fighting demons, I am sad to say.”

“Uldred is going to run all over me.”

The witch turned to look at the elf fully. “Stay close to me, Warden. I will be sure to keep you shielded, if you so need it. ‘Twould be a shame for you to die now.”

“Ma serannas, lethallan. I would agree with that,” Renya said with a smile. Morrigan regarded her.

“You entered everyone’s nightmare, did you not?”

Renya sighed. “I did.”

“Were the other’s nightmares as… inaccurate as mine?” she asked. Renya wasn’t sure what she was trying to get at, but was too tired to play games.

“I suppose. But sometimes we see what we want to see, even if it is not true,” Renya said with a sigh. “Sometimes living within a dream, even an inaccurate one, can seem preferable to living in reality.”

“Hm,” Morrigan replied with a frown.

***

“…but sometimes we see what we want to see, even if it is not true.”

“Do you believe that, Nyviel?” Leliana asked. The young elf glanced at her.

“Believe what? That we believe lies because they are preferable to the truth?” She shrugged. “I think that can be the case sometimes, yes. We want something so badly, or believe something so fully, that when we find any hint of support, even if it was imagined, we throw our whole being behind it.”

An inaudible sigh escaped Leliana and she began studying Renya as she walked next to Morrigan.

The group halted. More stairs. Alistair looked at Renya with more concern than he had before. “Can you do this?”

Renya squared her shoulders. “Yes, lethallin. Let’s finish this.” She walked to the front of the group and stood next to her fellow Warden, his face flushed with the thought of an impending fight, hers pallid, drawn, and weary. The climbed the stairs and entered the Harrowing room at the top.

The room was a mess. They walked in and saw a bald man holding a mage aloft with nothing but his mind; the mage was screaming. Other mages sat scattered on the floor, cringing as they listened to the painful cries of their friend. Still other mages lay dead.

Wynne confronted Uldred. Renya shook her head and tried to keep up as they argued about blood magic, and the Circle of Magi, and the templar, and the Chantry, and mage rights, and…

Renya turned to Alistar. “Whatever happens,” she whispered, color beginning to return to her cheeks as she began to work herself up to a fight. “I will stay by you and attack from the back. We need to finish this quickly before Uldred can summon more demons to aid him.” Alistair nodded grimly.

The ensuing battle was chaotic to say the least. The Wardens and their company danced around the hostages and the dead bodies while trying to avoid the spells of the blood mages and the demons Uldred had as his disposal. But nothing was as horrible as when the mages and demons were dead and Uldred transformed into a giant, fleshy monster.

“Mythal protect us,” Renya said, watching the man grow into the monster before her eyes. Alistair bellowed and charged. True to her word, Renya stuck to him and spun around, dodging a massive swing. She dove through the monster’s legs and came up on the other side, stabbing the back of its knees.

“’Tis your time to die!” Morrigan yelled, firing a spell. Renya suddenly felt very warm. Her weapons were glowing, and she felt a burst of energy. She jumped on the monster’s back, using her swords to help her climb up it, and with a flurry of strikes felt the monster begin to shudder. Slowly, slowly, the creature fell with a squelch on the floor and stopped moving. She jumped off the monster, her eyes locking on Alistair, who nodded at her, straight-faced.

Wynne pulled an older man over to them. “This is First Enchanter Irving. Thank the Maker he is safe.”

“I owe you my thanks,” he said weakly, looking at Renya and sweeping his gaze over the gathered party.

“I am glad you are well, Irving,” Renya said tiredly. “But we must return to the base of the Tower. Greagoir wishes to see you as soon as possible.”

“Of course. We cannot keep him waiting,” he said with the hint of an eye-roll. Renya smiled. She decided she liked the First Enchanter. He limped toward the door. “And whose idea was it for this place to be a tower?” he asked grumpily.

***

When they reached the room at the bottom, Renya was nearly bowled over by Elgar and little Garrison.

“It is good to see you, too,” she said to the dog with a laugh. He stood in front of her, his stumpy tail wagging so fast his back end was a blur.

Garrison was ecstatic. “You’re back, Miss Elf! I kept everyone safe! No demons came here!” he chirped excitedly at her. She smiled and glanced at Sten, who was regarding the small child with an amused expression.

“I am glad to hear it, da’len,” Renya said. “And-”

But Garrison wasn’t finished. “And we found a secret room and everything!” He checked himself sheepishly. “Oops, I wasn’t supposed to say anything about that…”

Renya chuckled. Alistair was looking at the boy fondly, as well. “A secret room?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “Did you find anything interesting in it?”

“No,” he said with disappointment.

“It’s just an old closet with weaponry the templar never use,” Nyviel said helpfully. She caught Wynne’s look. “What? It’s true. Everything in there is left to rust.”

Renya looked at Wynne with interest. “Do you think I could look inside?”

The mage shrugged. “I don’t see why not. You have saved the Tower, the least the templar could do is offer you a new sword, if that is what you desire.”

The elf went to explore the closet, secretly glad she wouldn’t have to face the templar again. She heard the heavy doors open behind her, followed by a gasp. Metallic clomps announced Greagoir’s entrance into the room.

“I’m glad this is over. It’s good to see you again, Irving.”

“Thank you, Greagoir. Me, too, although I am sure we’ll be at each other’s throats again in no time.”

Renya smiled again and continued poking around, until another voice floated through the hall.

“This is terrible!”

Renya looked over her shoulder and saw the templar that had been trapped in the force field standing next to Greagoir, fuming.

“They could all be abominations! Housing demons, lying in wait!” he raved.

“That is not so, Cullen,” Irving said in his slow, assuring voice.

“Of course you would say that if you had a demon inside you!” The templar was raving. “We cannot allow them to remain! We must completely cleanse the Tower!” His eyes fell on Nyviel and he pointed. “We must kill them! Kill them all!”

Renya gritted her teeth and was about to storm out of the closet when Greagoir’s voice cut in.

“I have made my decision, Cullen. Do not forget who the commander is, here. I believe Irving. The Tower is safe.”

“But-!”

“My final word, Cullen. Enough.”

The templar Cullen was silenced. With a steadying breath, Renya went back to examining the weapons neatly stored in the little room. A light cough caught her attention, and she glanced behind her. She wasn’t surprised to see Leliana.

“Come to help me look?”

Leliana managed a smile. “Of course. Are you looking for anything in… Renya, what’s wrong?”

For Renya had pulled something off a shelf so quickly she had knocked other weapons to the ground with a crash.

“This is a dal’thanu,” she said as she turned. In her hands was a beautifully crafted war-axe. She looked up at Leliana’s confused face. “It is a Dalish axe. These are only given to the mightiest of warriors.” Her face darkened. “Why is it here?”

_Maker, no._ Renya’s patience with the templar was tenuous at best, Leliana thought, but she doubted after this day she would have the energy for patience anymore.

“I have heard of Dalish trading with humans,” Leliana offered carefully.

“No,” Renya said angrily, pushing past the lay sister. Sten was at the door, but she ignored him, too. “Dal’thanu are not traded. Elvhen warriors prize these and they are a mark of skill and valor. No elf would part with one willingly.”

“Renya, please…!”

“Where did you get this?” Renya asked venomously, interrupting Greagoir. She thrust the axe at him.

“Please, Commander, we are very weary…” Leliana said, grabbing Renya’s arm. But the elf shook her off.

“Where did you get this?” she demanded again.

“I… don’t know,” he said, staring at the axe. “You took that from the closet? Those weapons are not used. We put spoils in there that would not be of use to the Tower, but we do not collect the items that are stored in there…” But Renya had stopped listening at:

“Spoils? Spoils?” She barked a laugh. “This,” she said, waving the axe again. “Is an axe that can only have been taken from the hands of a dead Dalish warrior. Did you know that?” she asked dangerously.

Greagoir shook his head slowly.

“You can’t take that,” Cullen said angrily. “That is the property of the Circle…”

“It is the property of the Dalish hunter you murdered,” Renya returned with the same tone.

“All heathens are a blight in the Maker’s eyes,” Cullen began. Renya’s eyes widened.

“ _We_ are a blight?” she asked incredulously. “You mean it is _not_ the darkspawn overrunning Ferelden?”

“-and must be removed from His sight so He may return to His chosen people!” Cullen continued over Renya.

“The Dalish have only ever wished to be left alone,” Renya fumed. “It is _you_ and your _Maker_ who-”

“Go back to your forest, knife-ear. You have brought a curse upon this tower by letting the mages live-”

Finally Greagoir held up his hand. This Dalish elf and her friends had kept him from having to kill innocent mages; he was willing to entertain her, however distasteful the Chantry thought that to be.

“To answer your question, I did not know where the axe came from… Ser Warden,” Greagoir said stiffly. Renya scoffed.

“I do not believe you.”

“Renya,” Alistair said softly.

Greagoir shook his head again. “We guard the mages, Ser Warden,” he said. “While I am very aware that templar are also called the cleanse the Maker’s world…”

Renys clenched her jaw.

“… we are not of those orders. They bring us weapons they think would be helpful to us, and we store what we will not use. Please, take it. You have saved many lives today,” he said curtly. “The least I can do is return to you a weapon of… your people.” He sounded like he was about to choke on his words and his face was twisted in controlled disgust. He hated that he had to treat this elf with respect, but it would be very poor form to murder the person responsible for the safe return of Irving and the cleansing of the Tower.

“Good. I would have taken it with or without your permission,” she spat at him. “This is not a weapon for templar hands…”

“Renya…” Leliana echoed Alistair pleadingly. The elf sighed and rubbed her vallaslin.

“Greagoir told me you had originally come regarding the contracts the mages signed ages ago to help the Wardens fight the Blight?” Irving asked, effectively ending the conversation. “After your great service, we cannot deny this.”

Renya blinked, trying to change mental gears. She looked at the old Enchanter. He looked as tired as she felt. “Thank you, First Enchanter.”

“We must repair the Veil here, but when you call, we will answer,” he said kindly.

“Thank you,” Renya said again. Then she frowned. She had almost forgotten their original reason for coming.

“First Enchanter, I hate to ask, but I have another favor…”

“What is it, child? You have done much today, I will try to return the service if I can.”

“There is a young boy in Redcliffe castle…” She briefly explained the issue of Connor. The First Enchanter looked troubled, but nodded when she had finished.

“I think we can spare some mages to come and assist you,” he said. “Although if he has been possessed for as long as you say…” He trailed off with a sigh. “But we will assist you as we can.”

“And as you are traveling to stop the Blight, I would like to aid in your quest, if you’ll have me,” Wynne said, looking between Renya and Irving.

“We are glad for more help,” Renya began. “But are you sure you are not needed here?”

Wynne nodded. “I fought at Ostegar. I want to see the end of this Blight,” she said. Renya nodded, and noticed Nyviel looking at her with wide, pleading eyes.

“Nyviel,” Irving said with a smile. “I see your heart has become cleaved to this cause, as well. If you wish to follow the Wardens, I will allow it.”

Greagoir frowned but didn’t say anything.

“Thank you, Grand Enchanter,” Nyviel said, bowing her head. She couldn’t contain her grin.

“Wait! Miss Elf!” Garrison ran up to Renya. She smiled at him. “Are you leaving us?”

“I am, da’len,” she said, crouching down. “I have to go and help some other people now.”

The little boy handed her something. “I saw you in the secret room, and I thought you’d like this, too. Dalish elves live in the forest usually, don’t they? So you must like trees a lot…” He handed her a blade with engravings of leaves on it. It was a beautiful silverite blade. Renya took it and thanked him.

“We do. And I do, very much,” she said with a smile. “Oh, this is so nice,” she added sweetly, aware that Greagoir and Cullen were standing behind her. “This is a dagger that belongs to the Dalish elves. It is called a dar’misu, which means ‘little blade.’ Thank you for giving this to me.”

Garrison’s brow furrowed. “If it belongs to you, why was it here in the Tower?”

“That is a very good question,” Renya said lightly.

“Will you come back and see us again, Miss Elf?”

Renya couldn’t help but smile. “If I can. I hope we meet again.”

“Me too!” And he jumped onto her, throwing his arms around her neck in a hug. She caught herself before she fell, then smiled and returned the hug. He let go of her and ran back to be with the other children. She rose and looked at the templar commander.

“Don’t expect me to hug you,” he said flatly.

“Do not expect me to want you to,” she responded in the same tone. The man sighed.

“You have saved the Tower, elf…Ser Warden,” he said. “You will always be welcome here.”

“Thank you,” Renya said without emotion.

“May the Maker watch over you.”

Renya’s jaw clenched.

“May He watch over us all,” Leliana said swiftly with a smile. Renya nodded stiffly.

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, Cullen and Renya meet... What did you guys think? Not going to lie, I have a few fics in mind for Inquisition, so I'm looking forward to revisiting this relationship :)  
> Also, I think it's become clear that I really don't like writing battle scenes, but I will certainly go into more detail if that's what you guys like. I'm always amazed by writers who have such a command of describing sword fights. But it's up to you; if you're like me and want to skip most of the stabbing and get to the story, then I'll keep going as I am!
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	34. Shadows of a Past Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renya revisits her life with her clan, for only a moment.

Alistair watched as Renya flopped on her bedroll once they had made camp on the other side of the lake. She immediately fell asleep, face buried in her arm. Wynne went over to check on her. After watching her sleep for a few minutes, she nodded and rose.

“Is she okay?” Alistair asked. The mage nodded.

“She physically fought off a desire demon and mentally a sloth demon,” she began slowly. “Add to that she had to also resist whatever the desire demon showed her… it’s no wonder she is exhausted. Then she had to travel through the Fade into our… our nightmares,” she said, her voice lowering. “Maker knows what she saw and what that did to her. But at any rate,” she said, returning to her usual volume. “She is emotionally and physically drained. She should be fine by tomorrow morning.”

The other Warden nodded. “Good.”

Wynne watched as Leliana walked past the sleeping elf, watching her carefully, before sitting on the ground at the edge of the camp, staring off into the wild. She had seen the looks Leliana had been giving the Warden and shook her head disapprovingly. There was a Blight to end; the Warden could not be distracted. But she decided to bide her time. She was new to the group and could afford to wait and see how things developed. After all, the elf had seemed less than interested.

***

_“You’re not supposed to be here…” the teenage elf said awkwardly. She ran her hand through her black hair and looked down briefly before the elf she was speaking to slunk out from under Master Ilen’s workbench._

_“Are you going to tell on me?” Renya asked with a playful smile. Her bright green eyes twinkled in the dark._

_“No, I’m… I’m the first. I don’t need to tell the hahren. I can… I can handle this myself,” the other replied uncertainly. She glanced up at the elf in front of her. Creators, this was awkward, having to reprimand your lethallan._

_“Merrill,” the other elf said kindly. “I was just looking for a practice blade.” She smiled as the olive eyes wavered between looking uncomfortable and trying to look stern._

_“You… you have another six months before you finish your apprenticeship,” Merrill said with as much confidence as she could muster, holding her staff so tightly her knuckles turned white._

_“As do you. Don’t you?”_

_“But… but I’m…”_

_“Are you really going to tell on me, lethallan?” the other elf asked, offering her empty hands to the hahren’s apprentice. “I didn’t take anything.”_

_Merrill sighed. “No, Renya. I’m not going to tell on you.”_

_“Good,” Renya said with a grin. “Because how would you feel if a shemlen showed up and the clan needed protection, and Renya Mahariel, the fiercest hunter of the Sabrae clan, wasn’t around to defend it?”_

_Merrill shook her head, trying to suppress her grin. “You’re completely unarmed, lethallan. How would you do that?”_

_Renya held Merrill’s gaze, and the mage quivered a little at the feral look on her friend’s face. “Let’s say you were a shemlen,” Renya said, slowly advancing. Merrill backed away apprehensively. “I won’t let you hurt the clan…” And she pounced._

_Merrill barely had time to yelp before Renya tackled her. Her staff flew to the ground with a clatter and she found herself on the ground with her hands pinned by her head. Renya was straddling her hips, looking at her curiously._

_“What are you going to do to me?” Merrill whispered. She swallowed._

_“What should I do to you?” Renya asked, her voice light. Merrill swallowed again._

_“I… I… It would be scandalous if someone saw you on top of me,” Merrill said with double-meaning, not sure if Renya wanted to continue her game of human-and-Dalish or not._

_“A hunter and the first? Yes… scandalous…” Renya released her and smiled awkwardly, starting to get up._

_“Don’t…” Merrill murmured before she could stop herself. Renya paused. She leaned in and took Merrill’s hands again._

_“How much scandal are you willing to take on, First-of-the-clan Merrill?”_

_Merrill looked away, suddenly nervous. Renya released one of her hands and tilted her chin so they were facing each other again. “It’s alright, Merrill.”_

_“How much scandal? With you?” Merrill asked. Renya nodded, and Merrill smiled. She tried to move her other hand with little success, until Renya released her. Merrill traced her hands up and down Renya’s arms, feeling the muscles underneath the Dalish tunic. Renya flexed her muscles, eliciting a little chuckle from Merrill._

_“You’re so strong,” she murmured with a smile. She traced her hands back up Renya’s arms and around her back, pulling her close. Renya leaned in, when all of a sudden:_

_“Hey!” Master Ilen’s voice cut through the darkness. “Who’s out there?”_

_“Run!” Renya whispered, scrambling to her feet and pulling Merrill behind her._

…

_“She is a hunter, Merrill. You do understand that, don’t you?”_

_“I do.”_

_Marathari shook her head. “I am fond of Mahariel, you know this, but you are the first. One day you will be the hahren and… at least consider one of the storytellers…”_

_“But Hahren Marathari…”_

_“You have a duty,” the keeper spoke over her. “To your clan and to the Elvhen. This is my final word, Merrill.”_

_“…yes, Hahren…”_

_Neither of them noticed Renya hiding in the shadows behind the aravel. Without waiting to hear anything else, she turned and silently crept away._

…

_The scene shifted. Renya and a blonde-haired elf were standing at the edge of the forest. Renya was, Andruil help her, showing another clansmember how to properly hold a bow. The elf was giggling, purposefully mishandling the weapon so Renya would put her arms around her again and correct her grip._

_“Ir tel’him, just once more, Renya. I’ll get it this time,” she said playfully. Renya pretended to be exasperated and positioned herself to help her again._

_Renya’s ears twitched; a soft voice rustled past on the wind. “It’s not that hard, you daft fool.”_

_“Like this, Meviel,” Renya murmured close to the other elf’s ear. She listened in vain for the voice in the wind again. Her hands lingered on Meviel’s for longer than necessary, but the other elf didn’t seemed to mind._

_From the corner of her eye, Renya noticed Merrill watching them, her hands balled into fists._

…

_Renya sat staring into the forest dejectedly. Her ears twitched as she heard someone walk up behind her._

_“Hello, Merrill…”_

_Merrill smiled and sat down next to her. She sobered quickly. “I… I heard Meviel is to be bonded to Abelard. They’ve… both finished their apprentice year and will have their lav’hasal in the next week,” she said quietly. Renya shrugged and nodded._

_“It seems no one wishes to bond themselves to me.”_

_“That’s not true, Renya. I…” Merrill looked away. “I’m sure there are plenty of people who would want to be bonded to you.”_

_“Yes, I’m sure. And I’m sure they will not do so, either. Possibly their duty says they cannot,” she said flatly._

_Merrill sighed. “I’m sorry…” She took Renya’s hand tentatively._

_“I know.” The hunter interlaced their fingers._

_“I… I know how to use a bow and arrow,” Merrill murmured. Renya chuckled softly and squeezed her hand a little._

_“Merrill, I… I know.”_

…

_“…because the brothers can never be apart, and what are you smiling about?” Merrill asked, glancing up from the great book in her lap. Renya was sitting on the ground across from her, leaning on her hands and watching Merrill read with a big grin on her face. Renya quickly rearranged her features into something more serious._

_“Nothing, I just… I really like this story,” she said. Merrill looked at her curiously._

_“You do?”_

_“Of course I do.” Renya rubbed her vallaslin. “I’m devoted to Dirthamen, after all.” She pointed to the book. “Can you read me another one?”_  
  
_Merrill arched an eyebrow. “The one about Ghilan’nain, now?”_  
  
_“No… the one about Mythal and Elgar’nan, and how the sun grew jealous of Mythal’s love for Elgar’nan, and…”_  
  
_“You know that story almost as well as I do,” Merrill said with a little smile. “You don’t need me to tell you it again.”_  
  
_“Yes I do,” Renya replied quietly. “I like it better when it’s your voice telling it, not mine.” She smiled down at her knees. “That Nevarran accent; it’ll get you every time.”_  
  
_Merrill looked away shyly. “That’s… sweet of you to say.” She cleared her throat and flipped through the pages of the great book. “I think we have a little more time before the evening meal…”_  
  
_“Good,” Renya said, settling in again to listen._  
  
_…_  
  
_“…and Elgar’nan restored the sun, his father, to the sky at Mythal’s request,” Hahren Paivel said to a group of fledglings. They were sitting around the campfire after the mid-day meal, and Renya was glad to have some time to spend with the clan. Merrill was lying with her head in Renya’s lap, smiling contentedly as Renya stroked her hair._  
  
_It was a beautiful day, and Renya leaned back against the log behind her as Hahren Paivel continued his storytelling in his calm, deep voice. Shouting voices caught everyone’s attention, and Merrill sat up, peering at the entrance to the camp. The few young elves sent to collect elfroot had returned, and were frantically gesticulating at Fenarel, who was guarding the camp’s entrance. Renya glanced at Tamlen as Merrill stood and hurried over to the upset elves. As one, the two hunters rose and followed._  
  
_“…only a day or so’s journey from here,” one of the young elves was now saying to Merrill anxiously._  
  
_“If they’re not armed, then I doubt they pose a threat,” Merrill said off-handedly with a shrug. “And only three? They sound like they’re lost.”_  
  
_“Still, it would be good to investigate.” Hahren Marathari had joined them. She turned to Renya and Tamlen. “I’m glad you two are here. I want you to go and find these humans and determine what they are doing so close to our camp.”_  
  
_“Yes, Hahren,” Tamlen said, glancing at his daughter playing with the other fledglings._  
  
_“But Marathari, they’ve just returned from their last hunt,” Merrill began, glancing at Renya for support. Renya gave a little nod, but otherwise stayed silent. Only the first could so openly argue with the hahren, and even then it was frowned on by the clan._  
  
_“We must investigate,” Marathari said with a shake of her head. “If they pose no threat, then Renya and Tamlen will send them on their way. If they are searching for us for selfish gains, then finding out now will be better than later.” She waited, but Merrill stayed silent this time, glaring at Marathari._  
  
_The hahren turned to the two hunters. “You will leave as soon as you are able.”_  
  
_“Yes, Hahren,” they said in unison._  
  
_“Andruil guide you both.” And the hahren walked away._  
  
_“Damn shems,” Tamlen muttered. “I’ll meet you in a minute,” he added before turning and walking over to where his daughter was playing under the watchful eye of Todia._  
  
_Renya stared into the first’s olive eyes and sighed. It would have been so nice to just spend a few days with the clan. Merrill had been right: she and Tamlen returned from a very arduous week-long hunt only three days ago. The two women looked at each other, and Merrill nodded slowly. Renya took a deep breath._  
  
_“I’ll be back soon.”_  
  
_Merrill leaned in and kissed her on the cheek._  
  
_“Come back safely.”_  
  
***  
  
Renya opened her eyes, her heart aching. She hadn’t come back safely. She had come back half-dead, and Tamlen hadn’t come back at all. Stretching and shaking her head, she rose and nodded to Morrigan as she took her watch. Something caught her eye at the edge of camp. When she saw what it was, she smiled and began to walk toward it, rolling up the sleeves of her tunic. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because if you love a character, you make them suffer... Sorry, Renya.
> 
> I always thought Merrill and the Dalish Warden had something between them, given how the camera focuses specifically on Merrill when the Warden leaves, and with some hidden dialogue in DA2, when Merrill comments how the Warden is gone and now "She'll never..." Anyway... drama drama everywhere.
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	35. Darker Shadows of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renya is not the only one with a past that haunts her.

Leliana closed her eyes, dropping her head to her knees. The image of Renya in front of her, tempting her to run away with her mingled with the memory of the real-life Renya cupping her cheek with concern. She had to stop; this was getting ridiculous. She was a sister of the Chantry with a spotted past, and Renya was a Dalish elf trying to save the world. There was no way for this to work out well for either of them.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself lying on a bedroll on the ground in a different part of the camp. She looked up and saw boots and pantaloon-clad legs, facing away from her. As she watched, the legs walked away, patrolling the camp. She sat up and peered into the darkness, trying to discern the figure, but the moon was behind a cloud and she couldn’t see that far away in the shadows. Footsteps came closer again, and Leliana saw two green glints blinking at about head-height.

“You are awake,” Renya said with some surprise, keeping her voice down so she didn’t wake anyone else.

“I am,” Leliana said, sitting up. “Although I am confused as to how I am here…”

“You fell asleep over there…” Leliana assumed she was pointing, as the glints twisted away and then back. “But… I figured even elves do not really enjoy sleeping on the bare ground.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Since my watch started.”

“And you moved me?”

Renya sighed. “Here. At least patrol with me if you are going to be awake.”

Leliana rose and followed Renya around the camp. Now that she was faced with the prospect of actually having to interact with the elf, she couldn’t get her voice working properly.

“So… what was life like in the Shantri?” Renya asked some time later.

Leliana hummed thoughtfully. “There were parts I enjoyed very much. The lilt of the Chant, the meditation. The… peace that came with knowing you were serving the Maker and his creations…”

“You found peace? But your Maker is so unaccepting…”

“No,” Leliana shook her head. “The Maker is not. The Maker loves all. But humans…” She shook her head again. “Some of the others who served with me were… preachy and unaccepting of others,” she admitted.

“Well, from what I have seen, I think I like your views of the Maker better,” Renya said. Even in the dark, she saw Leliana’s small smile. “I think if the Dalish had encountered your Maker and not the Maker of the templar, things might be different between our races.”

“Maybe one day I can meet your people, and they can see that not all followers of the Chant are… dangerous.” Leliana’s throat constricted on the last word.

Renya laughed. “Maybe, but do not try and preach at them.”

“Have I preached at you?”

Renya stopped laughing and suddenly looked thoughtful. “No,” she said softly. “You have not. You have been more accepting than I would have thought a Shantri sister would be.” She coughed lightly. “So what is someone like you doing in Lothering’s Shantri, anyway?”

Leliana’s heart quickened with guilt, but she kept her voice steady. “Someone like me? What do you mean?”

“You just do not seem to belong in a cloister, is all.”

“I don’t?”

“You know what I mean,” the elf added conversationally. “A beautiful, charming woman like yourself,” she teased. Most of the Chantry humans she had met had been big, oafish templar. She glanced over at Leliana and smiled. The sister looked pleased and embarrassed all at the same time.

“Oh, you think the initiates are old and ugly? No, some of them were quite lovely. And chaste, and virtuous. They were forbidden, which added to their allure.” Oh Maker, why was she saying this? She had to get out of this conversation.

“Forbidden fruit is all the sweeter, no?” She mentally kicked herself.

“Fruit?” Renya asked with interest. “What does fruit have to do with how humans look?”

Maker bless her. Leliana chuckled slightly. “No, no. Forbidden fruit. It is… you want something but you cannot have it. This makes you want it more.”

Renya frowned in thought. “So… if I wish to return to my clan, that is this kind of fruit?”

“No, that’s a little different,” Leliana replied patiently. Renya’s frown deepened. She shook her head.

“So you mean to say these…Shantri humans had something you wanted.”

“Yes,” Leliana replied cautiously.

“You desired their fruit?” Renya asked carefully, still not understanding.

Leliana was looking very uncomfortable now.

“I… yes, I suppose that is a way of putting it.”

“But could not have it because they were of the Shantri?”

“…yes…” the sister replied slowly.

“And you worked for the Shantri?”

Leliana blinked. “Yes.” She wasn’t sure where the conversation was going anymore.

The elf considered her. “So… you have fruit that is forbidden as well, yes?”

“My… fruit?” Leliana responded, sounding taken aback. “I… I can’t believe I’m having this conversation right now… Ahem. But no, I did not take any vows.” Leliana hoped Renya would change the subject soon, otherwise they would be able to use the heat from her face to keep the camp warm.

“So this means that… your fruit is not forbidden?”

Leliana was greatly regretting starting this conversation.

“No! No… that doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean just anyone can have a bite,” Leliana managed. Her face was burning.

“Are you not allowed to share if you take vows, then?” Renya persisted.

Now it was Leliana’s turn to look confused.

“Share?”

“Yes, share. We Dalish do this all the time.”

Leliana took a deep breath. She could only imagine what some of the other lay sisters would have said to _that_.

Renya smiled. “I have a good eye for apples, and the first of my clan can pick berries and pears better than anyone else I know. But we share with the whole clan.”

“Holy Maker,” Leliana murmured to herself with a smile. “It’s not actual fruit, Renya, or an object that you can hold. It means…”

Renya looked at her attentively. Leliana glanced around as if to make sure the whole camp was asleep.

“It is something, or _someone_ , that you desire but can’t have,” Leliana said softly.

“Oh.” Renya’s eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. “Oh.” A pause. “So… you were saying something about your vows,” she continued in an attempt to change the subject.

“Yes. I did not take any,” Leliana said, grateful. “I chose to stay and become affirmed, which is different. I promised to serve the Maker, for a time. The Chantry provides succor and safe harbor to those who are seeking it.”

“…and you joined the Shantri, seeking those things?”

“Yes.”

A pause. “From you life as a minstrel?”

Leliana stayed silent, not sure if she preferred this topic to talking about “fruit.”

Renya nodded to herself. She scratched her chin and her fingers rubbed against the scar on her jaw. Her mind drifted to the man who had been sent to kill the “red haired girl,” and his mention of the blonde Orlesian woman.

“You know,” she said as they walked back through the camp. “I have been trying to figure something out. Maybe you could help me.”

“Of course. I will certainly try.”

“The woman… the one who attacked me. She sounded like she was from Orlais…” Renya took a breath. “She said something about me stealing a pet… a nightingale. But I have not stolen anything, nor have I even seen a nightingale, let alone possess one. Is this like ‘forbidden fruit’? Does ‘stealing a nightingale’ mean something different?” Her ears twitched at the little noise behind her. Leliana had stopped walking. “Leliana?”

“She asked about a nightingale?” Leliana asked quietly.

“She did. What does it mean?”

“It means… oh Renya, it means this is all my fault,” Leliana said, her whisper sounding strangled. She grabbed the elf’s arm as she turned to face her. “I’m sorry,” she said for the umpteenth time since the previous morning. In the dim light of the rising sun, she could just make out Renya’s shadowy form, and reached for her injured ear without thinking. She stopped, but Renya grabbed her hand firmly and drew it the rest of the way in, letting Leliana’s fingers rest on her scar on the side of her face.

“Tell me about this nightingale.”

“It’s… it’s me.”

Leliana chanced looking into the green glints that were Renya’s eyes. They blinked at her, not understanding. She sighed.

“I wasn’t completely honest…” Leliana took a deep breath and dropped her hand from the side of Renya’s face. “I lied to you before, about why I fled Orlais and joined the Chantry,” Leliana said. “I just… didn’t feel like talking about it. I thought it didn’t matter anymore. But I see that was foolish.”

Renya ignored the small bubble of betrayal she felt, instead focusing on the troubled look on the Chantry sister’s face. “What is wrong, Leliana? You can tell me.”

Leliana looked distraught. “What happened to me… Maybe it will affect us, maybe it won’t… But you should know, either way. I came to Lothering and the Chantry because I was being hunted in Orlais.”

“Hunted? Why?” Even in the dim light, Renya could see Leliana’s face harden in anger. It was strange to see such an expression on the usually-friendly Chantry sister.

“I was framed. Betrayed. By someone I thought I knew and could trust. Marjolaine…my mentor, and… my friend.”

_Marjolaine? The woman from Leliana’s dream?_ Renya decided not to comment on that yet, and instead glanced at her arm, which was still being gripped by Leliana. Her fingers were beginning to dig in.

“You were right. There is a difference between a minstrel and a bard. I was a bard. And Marjolaine… she taught me…” She glanced at Renya, who nodded in understanding. So much of Leliana made sense now.

“She taught me the bardic arts… to enchant with words and song, to act like a high-born lady, to blend in as a servant… The skills I learned, I used to serve her, because she was my bardmaster, and because I enjoyed what I did,” Leliana said bitterly. She looked away from the elf. “I was her pet. Her nightingale… I loved her.”

“You loved her?” Renya tried to keep her voice steady.

“I did. I thought I knew her. But my devotion blinded me to some of her… less than noble attributes, I admit. But I was young and afraid when she took me in…” Leliana’s fingers dug in more. Renya wished she had worn her Warden armor for her patrol but didn’t say anything.

“There was a man I was sent to kill. She gave me a description, and I stalked him. I stole papers from his body, and planted them at the arl’s estate in Denerim…” she said with a shudder. “But something didn’t seem right. I looked at the papers, and found out that Marjolaine had been selling Orlesian secrets to other countries. Antiva and Nevarra, among others. It was treason!”

Renya clenched her jaw, feeling Leliana’s nails begin to bite into her skin.

“My skills as a bard demanded that my loyalties remain fluid, but I was terrified that if she was caught, she would be harmed. Orlais has been at war with many countries, and traitors are treated most harshly, as I found out…” Leliana said, her voice low.

Renya was about to say something, but Leliana shook her head. “I should have left well alone, but I didn’t.” She sighed. “I confronted Marjolaine, told her I feared for her life.”

“What did she say?” Renya asked when Leliana paused.

“She brushed aside my fears, admitted her guilt, and said she would change her plans for me. I just wanted us to be safe, to be together.” The poor woman shook her head. “But she is cruel, self-serving.” Her tone became bitter. “She uses and discards people for her own benefit. I thought she loved me, that she would change her plans to please me. I didn’t know that her plan was to doctor the documents herself, to implicate me in treason, to… to dispose of me. I… I was captured and…and tortured, and the captain of the guard meant to sell me to the Orlesian empress when he had finished having his fun with me,” she spat.

Leliana looked at the elf, and Renya had never seen someone look so haunted. “I was tortured for days… terrible, terrible things… and all that awaited me in the empress’s dungeon was more, followed by an eternity in an unmarked grave. I… Mother Dorothea helped me, and I returned to her and joined the Chantry. She eventually sent me to Lothering. Ferelden kept my person safe, and the Maker saved my soul.”

Renya took a steadying breath, trying to block out the image of Leliana being tied up and tortured. Her hands were balled into fists. When she saw Leliana glance down at them, she released them with effort.

“And you have never sought this Marjolaine?” Before she had a chance to realize what she was doing, Renya silently vowed to kill anyone who would try and hurt Leliana now.

“No,” the bard said with a shake of her head. “I have remained hidden away. I was so angry, so betrayed, but what could I do? I am one person, and Marjolaine has hands and swords everywhere. Although I do not know why she chose to attack you…” She looked at Renya sadly. “I cannot say I am sorry enough.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Renya said, gently prying Leliana’s fingers off of her arm and taking her hand in both of her own. She studied it for a few long seconds, eyebrows twitched together in a small frown. Leliana watched her nervously. After what felt like an eternity, the elf sighed and nodded, glancing back up at her.

“Thank you for trusting me with this. We will figure it out.”

Leliana smiled in relief. “Thank you. It is nice to get this off my chest. Thank you for listening… and for understanding…” She glanced at the rising sun and took a deep breath. “I suppose I should go and wake Alistair so he can make us something positively delicious for breakfast…” she added, rolling her eyes.

Renya chuckled. “Or you could let him sleep and I will try to make something. It will be Dalish, but it might also be edible.”

“I like that idea better.” Leliana nodded, staring into Renya’s eyes. She let her hand slip from Renya’s and began to go back to her tent to prepare for the day.

“Leliana?”

The bard turned. Renya was looking at her very seriously. “You do not ever need to feel afraid when I am around. I will not let anything harm you.”

Leliana felt her mouth twitch into a small smile, her eyes lingering on the scar tracing down Renya’s face and the matching one on her ear. When she didn’t respond, Renya nodded and her face instantly returned to its usual impassiveness. She turned on her heel and marched away.

“I know,” Leliana whispered after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reimagined the "forbidden fruit" conversation tee hee.
> 
> And poor Leliana. Hopefully Renya can figure out what to do...
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	36. Alindra and Her Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana tests the waters, and Wynne begins to become concerned.

“Stop that,” Sten said grumpily.

Leliana giggled. “Stop what?”

“That. Looking at me and giggling.”

“I can’t help it!” Leliana protested, putting her hands on her hips. “You are so big and stoic! Who would have thought you were such a softy!”

Renya smiled as she listened to the conversation.

Sten was not amused. “Stop saying that. I am a soldier of the Beresaad,” he insisted in his low, slow voice. “I am not a ‘softy’.”

Leliana giggled again. “Softy.”

“…I hate humans.” He glanced at her and sighed when he saw her still looking at him. “Leliana, what do you want from me?”

“Nothing! I’m just curious. There’s a lot we don’t know about you…”

“Do not tell me I am a softy again.”

“No! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun of you. There’s nothing wrong with having a heart, Sten. It’s just not what I expected.”

Sten frowned. “Why?”

“You’re so qunari!” Leliana exclaimed. “All the stories speak as if you were a hurricane or an earthquake rather than people.”

The giant faced forward again. “Qunari are most dangerous because we are thinking men and not unthinking force.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“For your sake, I hope you never find out.”

But Leliana was not giving up. “Are there qunari bards?”

“Why wouldn’t there be?” Sten was sounding very annoyed by this point.

“I don’t know. You don’t seem like very musical people to me.”

Sten shook his head. “You base this on me? I am a soldier. The antaam does not do battle with lutes, Leliana.”

“Fair enough, Sten,” Renya said, effectively ending the conversation. She pulled Leliana away.

“Thank you, Warden.”

***

“…and the stars, here, you can see them…” Leliana said, pointing to a wash of bright pinpricks in the sky between the two constellations she had drawn with her finger earlier. “Those are Alindra’s tears. When she has wept enough, she will be reunited with her soldier-love for all eternity.” Her heart hammered, waiting for Renya’s reaction.

“That was a beautiful story,” Renya said with a smile. “I have never known that humans have stories about the stars, as well.”

It was the middle of the night. With so many of them, they had started a rotational schedule for night watch. It was Leliana’s night off, but she had elected to stay up with Renya anyway and had been entertaining her with stories as they walked around camp.

Renya was a great audience, Leliana thought with a smile. She seemed truly interested in the stories, and would listen as Leliana wove tale after tale, some true, some fictional. When Leliana began to feel self-conscious about talking so much, Renya would insist she tell another story.

“I have never heard someone tell stories like you,” she would say.

“This story is my favorite,” Leliana said now, pleased that Renya had liked it so much. “It is a tale of love so strong that it moves the gods to action. It is a tale that shows all is never completely lost, no matter what. But I wonder sometimes,” she added sadly. “If such a love can truly exist. Life is not a story, after all.”

Renya looked up at the stars and sighed. “If we lose hope in love,” she said. “Then we have become truly lost.” She caught Leliana staring at her with her mouth open. “What?”

“I… I just never expected you to say something like that,” Leliana said incredulously. “It is nice to hear.”

“Why would you not expect that? Is it so odd to say?”

Leliana was still staring at her in wonder. “No, it’s just… I must admit there is a certain severity to you. It is nice to see this softer side shine through. Perhaps you should let it come out more often. Use your heart, perhaps more than your head sometimes?”

“I am secretly a hopeless romantic,” Renya said evenly, keeping her expression blank. She glanced at Leliana and winked at her. Leliana laughed, and Renya’s ears twitched as the musical sound drifted past her.

“I can see that. Your charm has been most apparent during this journey,” Leliana teased. She dragged a finger down the armor on Renya’s arm thoughtfully. “And you have the best hair.”

“My hair?” Renya said incredulously. Her curly hair was usually contained in a messy bun on the back of her head. “First my ears, now my hair.”

“It is simple, and suits you. In Orlais,” she began with a shake of her head. “The hairstyles can be quite elaborate, with ribbons and jewels and… one year, feathers were all the rage. One woman, Lady Elise, always needed to out-do everyone else. So that year, at the great winter ball, she wore live songbirds in her voluminous hair!” She laughed. “The chirping was quite charming at first, but you must know that terrified birdies often have loose bowels. Well, you can imagine what she looked like…”

“Poor Lady Elise,” Renya said with a laugh. Leliana joined in.

“Yes. But you could definitely say that her hair was a sight to be seen! …and smelled,” she added, dropping her tone. They laughed again. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Leliana said when they had finished. “I was trying to say something nice to you, wasn’t I?” She twisted her fingers together. “You have to forgive me, my mind wanders so. It’s just… I feel so comfortable talking to you, like I could say anything and you wouldn’t judge me. But you must think I’m so silly.”

“I like when you ramble,” Renya said, glancing at her and looking away quickly, again reminded of Merrill’s meandering thoughts.

“You do? This is what I mean. You are a pleasure to talk to…” Leliana smiled and continued beside Renya as they wandered around the camp.

“I haven’t felt this close to anyone in a long time,” Leliana began a little while later. “I really do enjoy your company.” She chuckled. “Mostly, when I am in the company of other women, they do not wish to speak of such things…”

“Do you often enjoy the company of other women?” Renya asked, surprised. She figured Chantry sisters spent a lot of time alone. Leliana looked taken aback.

“I… so what if I do?” she said defensively. At Renya’s confused frown, she amended: “Perhaps I do. Perhaps a great deal. What would you say to that?”

Renya allowed herself a smile; this wasn’t quite what she had expected. “Perhaps,” she teased. “I might giggle. Maybe look coy?”

Leliana swallowed, hard. “Oh?” she said, forcing her voice to sound light. “Then perhaps you must do this sometime, maybe one day when I am not prepared for it.”

“Leliana, why are you out here? This is not your watch.” Wynne had appeared and was looking at the two severely. She had watched them for the past week, and she had decided that things were beginning to get out of hand. This was for both of their sakes, she reminded herself.

“She was keeping me awake, Wynne,” Renya lied. “I selfishly asked her to stay awake with me.” The truth was she needed less sleep than the humans, and often took the longest watches alone because of it. But she wouldn’t say no to company, and Leliana’s was very pleasant.

“Hm,” the mage replied primly. “Your watch is over, Renya. Go get some sleep. And Leliana, I don’t want to hear you complaining tomorrow when you are too tired for your own watch.”

“I’ll be fine,” Leliana said coolly. “You do not need to mother me.”

“I’m not,” Wynne said flatly. She turned and walked away from them.

“Perhaps a bedtime story?” Leliana suggested when Wynne had disappeared. To her surprise, Renya shook her head. She was looking after Wynne with an odd look on her face.

“I have made you entertain me enough. Rest well, Leliana,” she said. Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked back over to her bedroll. She took off her armor and laid down in her tunic and leggings, instantly falling asleep. Leliana blinked. The complete change in the elf from one moment to the next had confused her, but she sighed and returned to her tent, fatigue finally beginning to take her.

***

Breakfast the next day was very hurried. They were making good time, but as Redcliffe approached they all began to feel anxious to return to Conner and try and dispel the desire demon holding him hostage.

“Morrigan,” Renya said suddenly. “I found this…” she trailed off with an anxious glance at Wynne. She reached into her pack and handed the big leather-bound book she had found over to her. Morrigan’s eyes widened.

“This is Mother’s grimoire!” she said. “I had meant to speak to you of this, but hadn’t had the chance before we left the Tower. I had wondered if we would be able to find it.” She looked at Renya. “Thank you. I shall begin studying it right away. ‘Tis possible that some of Mother’s magic will help us. Thank you again, my friend.”

Renya smiled, glad she and the witch finally agreed that they were indeed friends. Nyviel scooted over and sat closer to Renya, leaning over her to look at the book. “I heard you were a shapeshifter, Morrigan,” she said shyly.

The apostate looked at her. “’Tis true.”

“Could I – How is that possible? I have always wondered…?”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. “I thought this was forbidden magic for the magi of the Circle. You would be considered a maleficar for learning of these things, ‘tis that not so?”

“I… I am part of the Warden’s party now,” Nyviel said with more conviction than she felt. “I am no longer bound by the walls of the Tower.”

The apostate looked impressed. “It can be as you say,” she said loftily. “I can try and show you the basics of my magical abilities. ‘Twould be interesting to see an elf mage of the Circle could master this art,” she said with a glance at Renya, who nodded.

After breaking camp, the party trudged on. As happened so often in Ferelden, it started to rain. Nyviel turned to Renya.

“I thought fighting the Blight would be more glamorous than this,” she said with a little humor.

“You and me both, Nyviel.”

The elves laughed. Leliana, walking behind them, watched as Renya relaxed and began to talk in a low voice to Nyviel. Renya laughed again and put her hand on Nyviel’s shoulder amiably, shaking her as she said something that the bard, walking at the back of the procession, couldn’t hear. Leliana frowned. Renya was never that relaxed around her. Even when Leliana joined her on her watch, the elf would sometimes tease her with flirtatious comments, and would always listen to her stories, but the evenings always ended formally and businesslike. When she was with Nyviel, though, she was always relaxed.

Fleeting. Broken… Leliana shook her head and instead tried to engage with Morrigan, who was walking next to her.

“So, Morrigan,” she began.

“So you are a bard,” Morrigan interrupted her, as if she had been waiting for an opportunity to say this. Leliana startled.

“How do you know that?”

“You referenced yourself as one the other night. I do pay attention,” Morrigan replied tartly.

Leliana sighed. She had forgotten. Nyviel had asked about Renya’s ear and the scar down her face, which had led to an explanation of the Orlesian assassin’s attack, and a brief mention of Leliana’s former employment. At the time, only Wynne had seemed concerned.

“Yes, Morrigan, I am a bard,” she said.

“’Tis interesting that you pretend to be one thing while you are truly not. Your nature, it would seem, is one of secrecy and lies, yet you masquerade as a sister of the Chant,” Morrigan said, her eyes gleaming. Leliana saw the brief glance Morrigan shot the Warden. She frowned.

“At least I am trying to be better,” Leliana said coolly. “I am not so empty inside that I simply wallow in myself. I have tried to be different, to change myself into the person I wanted to be, instead of allowing myself to become an empty shell.”

Morrigan was silenced. “I…” She glanced away, not believing the sister would make such a cutting remark toward her. _Empty shell?_ She looked introspective for a second or two.

“Yes,” the witch said now. “You have seen through my charade to my sad, sad core.”

“Now you’re just mocking me.”

“Your powers of perception are great, indeed,” she continued sarcastically.

“Fine. Forget I ever started this conversation.”

They walked along in silence, each glaring at the road ahead of them.

“Do you masquerade as anything else?” Morrigan shot back at her a few moments later.

“Masquerade? No.”

“I have seen you use your…bardic abilities many times to achieve your means. Have you other ‘special circumstances’ during which you use these powers of manipulation?”

“Yes, Morrigan,” Leliana said dryly. “I’m trying to seduce you right now.”

“I thought as much,” Morrigan replied airily. She looked away from the bard.

Leliana watched as Morrigan stared ahead, her face impassive. She sighed, doubting she would get any further conversation from the witch. Alistair was telling Wynne his bad jokes, glad to have a new audience for them, and Wynne was playing along kindly. Sten, as always, marched with military directness, eyes front. Elgar was up by his master, and Renya was absentmindedly rubbing his head as she walked and chatted with Nyviel. Renya’s hand went to Nyviel’s shoulder again, and the younger elf returned the gesture excitedly, pointing to Renya’s forehead and then her own. Renya shrugged, but then gave a slight nod, and Nyviel turned back to the road with a new bounce in her step.

_Fleeting…_

***

A few hours of walking later, Wynne found herself next to the bard.

“You remind me of Lady Cecile,” Leliana said after a few minutes of silence had passed between them.

“Who?”

Leliana smiled at the memory. “She was an Orlesian lady. My mother served her until she died and Lady Cecile let me stay, instead of turning me out on the street.” She surveyed Wynne thoughtfully. “You are like her in some ways. You have the same poise, the same air of nobility.”

“Oh, child,” Wynne replied kindly. “I am hardly noble.”

“I learned that nobility isn’t just something you are born with,” the sister replied. “I have met nobles who were petty and mean… complete degenerates.” She touched the mage’s arm. “Then there are people with a certain dignity and grace. It draws you to them, no matter who they are, or who you are.”

“Why, Leliana…”

“I think that the lowest peasant can have the most noble spirit and it will always shine through. It is this nobility of spirit that you share with Cecile.”

Wynne covered Leliana’s hand with her own, touched. “Why… thank you, Leliana. It is very kind of you to say that.”

The sister nodded and removed her hand. She looked peaceful as she continued to walk. Wynne smiled thoughtfully. Leliana was a very sweet person, she thought to herself. She deserved to be happy… _happier than she is_ , Wynne observed, noting the sister's gaze lowered once more. Her eyes fell on the back of Renya’s head. The elf was speaking with Morrigan, laughing at something the apostate had said. She glanced back at Leliana and saw her staring at Renya as well, a longing look on her face. The mage sighed and shook her head. _There is a Blight to stop. She will be hurt if…_ She sighed again. She would just have to wait and see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually really like Wynne, but always wondered at her meddling. Is it because she cares for Leliana, or because she is concerned about the Blight (or both)? We'll see how it goes!
> 
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	37. A Moment, A Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of levity, a moment of conflict, and a moment missed.

After they had finished eating the evening meal and had cleaned up, Renya meandered into the nearby woods in an attempt to clear her mind, troubled with thoughts of Connor and the lingering images from her nightmares in the Tower. Soft footsteps behind her announced that Leliana was following her. The elf sighed. She just wanted to be alone; was that too much to ask?

Renya moved easily through the trees, pretending to not notice the footsteps coming closer. She began walking faster and smiled at the exasperated huff that came from behind her.

Her eyes twinkled as she saw the trees open up onto a sandy patch of ground near a simple dock on the lake. She stepped out into the moonlight and walked a few steps onto the sand before turning abruptly.

“Is there something I can help you with, Leliana?”

The Chantry sister stopped short. “I… I had wanted to talk to you about something, but… as we walked through the forest I realized I could not find my way back,” she lied. “I had no choice but to continue following you.”

“Is that so?” The Warden’s voice was impassive, and Leliana wished she could make out more of the features in the moonlight. She took a deep breath.

“I wonder how deep the water is here,” she commented lightly. Renya raised an eyebrow. “Are we allowed to swim in it?”

Renya blinked. “Is that what you came to talk to me about? Swimming in the lake?”

“Well, no,” Leliana admitted. “But now that we are here, it strikes me as something interesting to talk about. I imagine you swam with your clan, in the… the forest you lived in, no?”

“More questions for me, I see.”

Leliana sighed.

“Yes. We did not have much time for things like that, but on occasion we swam in a lake that was close to our camp,” Renya said quietly. She walked a little closer to the lake, noting but not commenting on Leliana’s footsteps following her. They stopped at the very edge, and Renya swiveled her eyes in the direction of the bard. A small dock jutted into the water nearby, and a lone house sat on the shoreline, its windows dark for the night. The stars shone brightly, and the moon reflected off the still water.

“I imagine you were a good swimmer, being a hunter?”

“As good a swimmer as anyone, I guess.”

Silence fell between them as they looked out over the lake.

“I… I never really thanked you,” Leliana said quietly.

“For what?”

For what, indeed? Standing by her side during the battle at Redcliffe? Comforting her time and again? For not leaving her when she had every right to? Her thoughts drifted to the small bruises she had left on Renya’s collarbone, the scar on her ear and cheek. Maker, what about trying to kiss her in the Fade? And the Warden impostor… She sighed. Without thinking, she followed Renya out to the edge of the dock.

“For… helping me pick out a bow, even though it was destroyed in the tower,” Leliana finally answered, somewhat lamely. Renya arched an eyebrow again.

“Sathem. You are welcome,” she answered politely.

“And… thank you for helping me in the Fade, in my… my nightmare…”

A brief silence. “You are welcome.” Renya’s voice was a little lower now.

Leliana sighed. She took it as a good sign that Renya wasn’t suggesting they return to camp yet, although the long pauses were beginning to unnerve her.

“So what did you really want to talk to me about?”

_I just wanted to spend time with you,_ Leliana thought miserably. She shook her head subconsciously.

“Should I guess?”

“What?” Leliana was surprised by the playful tone in the elf’s voice.

“You followed me away from camp, all through the bit of forest here, and to the edge of a lake, and will not tell me why. Should I guess?” Renya asked again.

“I…” Maker, this was unexpected. Leliana smiled. “I… you are right. I thought of more questions,” she invented, matching Renya’s teasing tone. It was true, in a way. Leliana did have more things she wanted to know about the Warden.

“Oh?”

“If you would indulge me…”

“You and your questions…” But the elf’s tone was still light. Her eyes twinkled in the moonlight.

“Of course,” Leliana replied, her heart hammering at the unexpectedly playful banter. “I have had very few opportunities to… _oh!_ ”

For Renya had lunged at Leliana and scooped her up into her arms. “I do not wish to answer any more of your questions, Leliana,” she said conversationally. She held her over the lake.

“No! Renya! Don’t you _dare!_ ” Leliana squeaked, throwing her arms around Renya’s neck.

“What?”

“Stop it! Stop it _right now!_ ”

“I thought you wanted to go swimming?”

“Put me down this instant!”

“If you say so…”

“ _No! Wait!_ ”

She screamed as Renya pretended to drop her in the lake, only to catch her and gently place her back on the dock.

Leliana stood panting next to Renya, who was grinning at the human, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Maybe some other time, then?”

“Renya, I am… I am going to…” She made a playful grab at the elf.

Renya’s dodged her. “You will have to catch me, first!”

She jogged backwards a few steps, wondering if Leliana was going to follow her. After a brief hesistation, the bard lunged at her, and they were off. Renya laughed as she ran off the dock and up the shoreline. She looked over her shoulder at Leliana, and so she didn’t see the looming pile of crates neatly piled by the docks. With a mighty crash, Renya toppled head-over-heels, scattering the crates and their contents on the ground.

“Ugh…”

“Maker, are you okay?” Leliana skidded to a stop next to the Warden. Renya sat up and nodded. She looked down and saw that she was tangled in a well-used fishing net, and had what appeared to be smoked meat snarled in her hair. She started to laugh, and Leliana joined in. Leliana had never heard such a laugh before; it was easy and wild, and Leliana never wanted it to stop. She knelt next to Renya, and the two women continued to laugh as they picked jerky out of Renya’s hair.

“Hey!” A candle was lit in the nearby house. Renya and Leliana froze.

“Run!” Renya whispered, frantically trying to throw the net off of her. A few frenzied moments later, during which four hands tried to untangle the net from the elf, Renya and Leliana scrambled back into the forest, stifling chuckles. Once they reached the safety of the trees, they burst out laughing again.

“Thank you,” Leliana said again once they stopped.

“For what?”

“I… I needed to laugh. There has been… little to smile about recently, no?”

Renya nodded, sobering quickly. “Yes. Very little. New friends, though. Always worth a smile, aren’t they?” she said, businesslike once more. She nodded to herself again. “Let’s go back to camp.”

“Yes… Friends…” Leliana said a little sadly as Renya began to walk back through the forest toward camp. She sighed and followed the elf without another word.

They walked on for a time, until Renya held up her hand, listening. Her body was taut, and Leliana soundlessly accepted the bow Renya offered her and fitted an arrow, trying to hear whatever it was that Renya was searching for. The elf pointed into the shadow of the forest, then held a finger to her lips, still staring into the darkness. She bared her teeth in a snarl and pulled out her sword almost soundlessly. Leliana listened intently, but whatever the elf was hearing was beyond what humans could hear. The elf turned suddenly, and pushed Leliana until her back was against a tree.

“Stay here,” she murmured. Leliana was about to protest when she added, “If you cannot hear it, you will not know if it is behind you until it is too late.”

A moment later, Leliana heard the sound that had captured Renya’s attention. A low growling was coming closer; in fact, many growls were coming closer.

“Wolves,” Renya commented, glancing over her shoulder at Leliana. Leliana pulled her bow taut, ready.

The pack seemed to appear out of nowhere, lunging at them.

“Be careful!” Renya cried, striking one down. She whistled shrilly, and a distant woofing announced that Elgar was on his way.

Leliana fired arrow after arrow, and Renya cut down the ones she missed. Another snarl caught the human by surprise, and she lunged away from the sound instinctively. She spun in time to see Renya kick the animal into the trunk of the tree, stunning it. The wolf rose, hackles up, and jumped at Renya’s throat. The elf was ready and killed it more cleanly than Leliana had ever seen anyone kill an attaking animal before. Finally the animals were all dead. Renya shook her head as Elgar trotted up to them, his muzzle a little red.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m… I’m fine.” Leliana was shaken, and for a moment wondered if it was due to the wolves, or due to Renya. One moment so playful, the next, so deadly…

_And you would know all about_ that _kind of person, wouldn’t you, Leliana?_

“Good,” Renya said, resheathing her sword and jarring Leliana from her thoughts. “Let’s get back, quickly. I am sure it is almost time for my watch.”

***

“Renya. Renya, wake up.” Someone was shaking her shoulder.

“What is it?” Renya said, rolling over and squinting into the darkness. Blue glints hovered above her.

“It’s Leliana. She’s… I don’t know. Something’s wrong.”

Renya was standing in an instant. She followed Nyviel back to the bard’s tent and flew inside, the younger elf behind her. Leliana was curled up in a ball under her blanket, clutching it to herself. Her brows were knit.

“No… no… let me go. I do not want this anymore…”

“Leliana?” Renya asked, crouching next to her.

“No, leave me alone… I am not like you… I do not want this… I don’t like this…”

“Leliana, wake up. It is just a dream.”

“I have sought salvation. Maker, protect me. Andraste, send me your grace…”

“Leliana,” Renya said, a little more firmly. “You are dreaming. You are in camp. It is me. Renya. And… and Nyviel,” she added with a little shrug at the other elf.

“Renya… don’t… no, please… stop…”

Nyviel’s eyes widened, and she saw her expression mirrored on Renya’s face.

“I’ll just… step out.”

But Renya didn’t seem to hear her, and didn’t notice her leaving the tent, so intently was she staring at the human on the ground. A tear trickled out of the squeezed-shut eyes.

“What is it?” Renya asked gently. “What am I to stop?”

“Stop… please, Renya, I’m sorry… You said I was safe with you…” She cried out and twisted, as if in pain.

The Warden’s heart started to hammer. As she watched, tears began running freely down Leliana’s face.

“Okay, Leliana,” Renya said gently, reaching out and stroking Leliana’s mussed red hair. “I will stop. I am sorry.”

“No… no you won’t. It will never stop… It will never end!”

Renya watched Leliana writhe in her sleep helplessly. What was she seeing? And why was she dreaming that Renya was hurting her?

She shook her head, not caring what had prompted the dream, and only wanting for it to stop immediately. “Leliana,” she said sharply, close to the woman’s ear. “Wake up.”

Leliana startled awake with a gasp. She jumped when she saw Renya hovering so close to her.

“Renya!” she said, sitting up and straightening her hair self-consciously. “Wh… what is it? Is something wrong?”

Renya looked at her, perplexed. Eventually, Leliana stopped stroking her hair and tentatively reached up to her face to wipe her eyes, as if only realizing there were tears still in them.

“Maker, what happened?”

“A bad dream.”

Leliana tilted her head a little, wondering at her curt tone.

“I… don’t understand…”

“You do not need to be afraid when I am around,” Renya said softly. Leliana managed a wavering smile and nodded.

“I know that, Renya. I know.”

“And… you do not need to be afraid _of_ me, either,” she added quietly, holding Leliana’s gaze.

“I’m… I’m not,” Leliana replied, frowning.

Renya shook her head sadly. “Are you sure about that, falon?” She sighed and took the bard’s hand contemplatively. Perhaps Leliana believed the tales she was told about the Dalish more than she realized.

“I will not hurt you,” Renya said simply, looking at the pale hand in her tan ones. She brought her gaze up to meet Leliana’s. “I promise,” she whispered, bobbing Leliana’s hand up and down. “I promise you.”

Leliana’s heart beat a little harder. “I know, Renya. Thank you.”

Renya nodded, rubbing her hands over Leliana’s, for a brief moment hating how rough her fingers felt against Leliana’s smooth skin. She released her.

“Are you sure you are alright?”

“Yes,” Leliana said, clutching the hand Renya had held. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Renya rose as best as she could in the tent. “Good. I hope you sleep well, and pass the rest of the night easily. Dirthamen guide your thoughts, Mythal protect you…” She faded and shook her head. “May your Maker watch over you.”

Leliana smiled, touched. “Goodnight, Renya,” she whispered as the elf left without another word. She lay back on her bedroll and sighed. Now that she was awake and had a chance to think, her dream came flooding back to her. She was tied with her hands above her head, and Marjolaine was staring at her angrily. The bard shivered, remembering the too-real feeling of Marjolaine dragging her fingers along her body, whispering treacherously to her and brandishing a dar’misu with etchings of leaves on it. Leliana had cried out for her to stop, begged her to let her go, but as Marjolaine ignored her, the Orlesian had transitioned smoothly into Renya, who had stared at her in disgust.

_“Dirty human…” Renya said with a sneer. She leaned in, and expensive Orlesian perfume stung Leliana’s nose as the elf kissed her harshly. Fingernails bit into her skin, and Renya laughed as Leliana cried out._

_“Please, Renya… you said I was safe with you…”_

_“Don’t be foolish, shemlen.”_

_And then Leliana was tied up in the dungeon again. The elf was cutting into her with meticulous precision, making Leliana scream. Tears streamed down her face; somehow this betrayal was worse than Marjolaine’s. But, she supposed, she should have expected it all along…_

Leliana woke with a start to find Nyviel sleeping peacefully in the bedroll next to her. She didn’t notice the elf-shaped shadow standing outside her tent, silently on guard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, say it ain't so! Leliana didn't notice Renya out there? Sigh... At least they had their moment by the lake! ;)
> 
> Also, "falon" means "friend." I don't think that word has come up yet.
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	38. Of Little Boys and Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions race back to Redcliffe and try to save Connor and wake Eamon.

Redliffe village came into view a few days later. They pushed themselves and made it to the castle before nightfall. Rushing into the throne room, they found Jowan murmuring over Isolde, limp on the floor, with Teagan looking on grimly. Renya looked at Morrigan who was staring at Jowan with interest.

“He is performing the blood magic ritual. But it is interesting,” Morrigan said, glancing at the ceiling above her. “It is not helping him.”

“ _What?_ ”

“The demon is too strong for him. This man is a poor blood mage. Or Isolde’s blood is weak…”

“Wait, so she’s going to die and Connor will still be possessed?” Alistair asked, drawing his sword.

“’Tis the most likely outcome, yes,” Morrigan said, still studying the scene.

“If he stops now, will she recover?”

The apostate nodded. Alistair and Renya began to advance, but Nyviel was faster. She pushed past Renya and charged Jown, a very ugly look on her face, and knocked him to the ground, breaking his concentration. Isolde took a shuddering gasp and lay still, her breathing heavy. Teagan looked up at the company.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “This was helping Connor!”

“No, it was not,” Morrigan said, stepping forward. Her gold eyes flashed. “Jowan is as poor of a blood mage as he is a tutor.”

“Jowan!” Nyviel said angrily. She advanced on the mage who was still lying on the floor. Renya stared at her, but then realized that they must have met at the Circle. The younger elf pulled the mage up by his ear.

“Nyviel? What are you doing here - ow!”

For Nyviel had slapped him. “Do you know what has happened? Do you know how much pain you have caused?” She slapped him again.

“Aren’t you going to stop her?” Alistair asked. Renya shook her head.

“No,” she said simply.

Another slap. “And Sister Lily… how could you? You said you loved her, now she’s in the Aeonar…”

“The mage’s prison?” Jowan’s voice was high

“Yes. Her trial has already begun,” the elf fumed. “You are a _terrible_ person, Jowan!” Her eyes flashed. “And Neria Surana… _Neria_..." Her lips parted into a snarl. "Just through her Harrowing a year ago, still missing her parents at the alienage. Or Solona Amell? They’re still in the dungeon. Irving is the only one who believes that they’re not blood mages, and is trying to keep Greagoir from making them Tranquil, or sending them to Aeonar, as well…”

“Solona?” Jowan repeated in a small voice.

“Yes, Jowan. Some best friend you are! Abandoning them to take your punishment for you…” Her hand twitched as if to slap him again, and he winced.

“That is enough, Nyviel,” Renya said quietly. The other elf glared at Jowan a little longer before stalking away.

“You did not believe we would return, Teagan?” she asked now, turning to the bann. He looked apologetic.

“You have been gone so long, my lady,” he explained. “And…”

At that moment, the mages from the Tower arrived. After a few minutes of explanations, and after Isolde was helped off the floor by Teagan, the mages were ready to send someone into the Fade.

Wynne and Irving shared a look, and Renya’s eyes narrowed at the almost-imperceptible way Irving shook his head at Wynne. Wynne sighed and nodded heavily.

“The boy has been possessed a long time,” Irving said, giving Wynne another meaningful look. “But if we have any chance of freeing him, we will need to send someone into the Fade… to try…”

The assembled mages looked at each other uncomfortably. It seemed none of them thought this plan would work.

“I will go,” Nyviel said in a quiet voice. The Warden’s entire party looked at her. She looked uncomfortable at the attention. “I… am young but I am ready. I have faced demons before, in my Harrowing, and in the Tower…”

“Nyviel…” Irving admonished quietly. “He has been possessed a long time… The chance of success is very slim.”

“Should I go?” Jowan asked, holding the side of his face. “Perhaps I can reason with him.”

“Ab…solutely… not…” Isolde gasped from the other side of the room where Teagan was holding her.

“No, I’m going,” Nyviel said stoutly. She looked at Renya. “I… I promised to help you fight the Blight.”

Creators bless her. Renya shook her head. “You do not have to do this to prove you belong, Nyviel,” she said softly, grabbing her shoulder. Leliana’s heart sank a little at the look that passed between the elves.

“No, I can do it. I will fight the demon.” Nyviel looked at the assembled mages. “I‘m ready. Let us go.”

“She is capable,” Wynne said to Irving.

“But…” Another meaningful glance.

“We have to try,” Wynne murmured in response. Irving sighed and finally nodded.

“Mythal protect you,” Renya said now. “And may Hanal’ghilan guide you back to us victorious.” She had a terrible feeling about this, capable or not.

Regardless, Nyviel was seated in a chair, and she closed her eyes. The assembled crowd watched her for the better part of fifteen minutes. She swayed a little in her seat, but looked untroubled. As they passed the fifteen minute mark, her face began to show signs of distress. At twenty minutes, fear. At twenty-five minutes, she gasped and opened her eyes, springing out of her chair. Unfortunately, the person she ran into was Renya, who stumbled backwards with the force and grabbed her to keep her from falling as they crashed into a table behind them.

“What happened?” she asked, peering down at her. Nyviel shook her head.

“The demon. It has consumed him!” she said, wild-eyed. “I could… I could sense when the demon was weakening, and then it would laugh… such a terrible laugh. But then… I could feel the energy flow from this world to the Fade, and knew it was the little boy. The demon’s life is tied to Connor’s…”

Renya looked at Morrigan, as she so often did in these situations, but the witch’s face told her everything she needed to know.

“Are you… is she possessed now?” Teagan asked the assembled Circle mages.

Nyviel was still clutching on to the Warden. “And I saw things, Renya. The demon… she tried to tempt me… she said she could make me strong, that I could earn vallaslin like you. That everything would be okay…” Renya tried to calm the younger elf, but she wasn’t listening. “She told me that I could be strong and brave, and be able to fight the Blight…”

“Nyviel, listen to me…” Renya said hurriedly.

“I fought her, Renya,” Nyviel interrupted, looking at her eyes, blue boring into green. “I told her that I wasn’t going to listen. She was so angry. That was when she threw me from the Fade.”

A nearby templar drew his sword. “She must be,” he said, answering Teagan and advancing. Another templar copied him. Renya pulled Nyviel behind her protectively, hand on her sword.

“She is not possessed,” Morrigan said, studying her nails. But her tone carried and grabbed the templars’ attention. She looked around as if completely disinterested. “’Tis not that difficult to see,” she said condescendingly. “The demon is drawing power from the boy. One desire demon cannot possess two beings at the same time.”

“This mage was unable to fight the demon,” one templar said angrily. “We cannot take any chances.”

Renya looked at Nyviel desperately, searching her eyes for that haunted look Connor had in the moments he was no longer possessed. Her eyes, while scared, were clear. The Warden closed her eyes, her thoughts reeling. If it turned out that Nyviel was possessed, they would deal with that later. Her heart sank at the thought but she turned and faced the templar.

“You will not harm her. She is with the Wardens, now,” she said in a low voice.

“Move, elf. You have caused enough trouble,” the second templar said.

“Trouble? _Trouble?_ ” Renya spat. Alistair intervened.

“You do not have jurisdiction over the members of the Warden’s company,” he said with authority. Renya kept her expression neutral as she listened to Alistair lie through his teeth. It was the Wardens who had no jurisdiction, not without using the Rite of Conscription, which she would prefer to not do. “You will leave Nyviel to us. If the time arises where she appears to be influenced by the demon we… we will take care of it,” he finished, his voice altering as he realized what he was saying.

“Put your swords away,” Irving said. “For the Maker’s sake, put them away. There has been enough death already.”

“What options do we have left?” Renya asked. She saw the looks on her companions’ faces. “No. We could send someone else to the Fade, someone with more experience…” She looked around for support, but all the mages were shaking their heads.

“The demon is drawing too much strength from the boy. This was a lost cause from the beginning,” Wynne said gently, looking sad. “Even if we had arrived a month ago, this demon would have been too powerful. We are out of options.”

“No,” Renya said, shaking her head and backing away. “No, you cannot do this. He is only a da’len. A child. He does not deserve this…” She turned to Morrigan, her last hope. “Please, Morrigan, there must be something else.”

“Both the Circle and blood magic have failed,” Morrigan said softly. She looked almost sad as she watched Renya’s face shatter at her words.

“I am so sorry, my lady,” Teagan said coming up behind her and tentatively laying a hand on her shoulder. “You have done everything you could. But we have lost.”

“And what of Jowan?” Anything to turn her attention away from what was about to happen.

“He will be imprisoned until Eamon wakes. It will be the arl’s duty to sentence him for his crimes,” Teagan said. He nodded at two of the Redcliffe guards, who grabbed Jowan and frog-marched him away. The disgraced mage tried to catch Nyviel’s eye as he left, but she refused to look at him.

Silence fell in the room as the gathered group tried to delay the impending death of the child upstairs. After everything we have done, Renya thought miserably. After all the demons, all the fighting, after the race against time… She pressed her fingers into the markings on her forehead. It just wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t the last time she would think that.

***

Renya tentatively opened the door to the big room upstairs. Connor was seated on the floor, playing with his toys. He smiled at her sadly.

“Hello,” he said politely. “You’re the elf that I met a while ago, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Renya said, trying to smile. “My name is Renya.”

“It is nice to meet you, Miss Renya,” he said, still on the floor. “I’m Connor.”

The elf nodded. “I am glad to see you are feeling better.”

Connor shook his head at that, looking troubled. “I’m not,” he said to the toy knight in his hand. “I feel like… I am fading. I never meant for anything bad to happen,” he said looking at Renya apologetically. “I just wanted Father to get better.”

Renya sighed and nodded. If only Isolde had sent him to the Tower, if only Jowan hadn’t been in the pocket of Loghain, if only the desire demon wasn’t so strong. If only.

The little boy glanced down at the steel dagger in Renya’s belt. “You’re here to kill me, aren’t you? That’s the only way to stop this, isn’t it?” he said sadly.

“We tried… so many things,” Renya began, but Connor shook his head.

“I know, I felt it,” he said, looking haunted. It aged him. “She was so angry, and I felt myself get so… tired. I felt so weak. It hurts so badly, all the time, and has since the beginning… So much pain…”

The young boy stared at the ground for a few minutes, and then met Renya’s gaze again. “Will it hurt?” he asked, suddenly looking and sounding like the child he was again.

“I do not know,” Renya whispered before she could stop herself. She blinked furiously.

“Will it save Father?”

Elgar’nan, she had no idea. The way their luck had been, no, it wouldn’t. “Yes,” she said reassuringly. “It will save your father.” The boy nodded seriously, accepting responsibility too big for such a little boy to bear.

“Good,” he said, the relief apparent in his voice. Then: “Will you be quick?”

Renya nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, feeling a tear start to trickle down her face. She wiped it away and cleared her throat.

“Don’t cry, Miss Renya,” he said. He became quiet again. “She hurts me all the time. She’s close; she’s coming back,” he added after a pause.

The Warden looked at all the toys surrounding the little boy. She knelt next to him, tucking her feet under herself. “Well,” she said, picking up a toy dragon and placing it on top of the miniature castle. “I think she can stay away long enough for us to slay the dragon.”

Connor’s eyes grew wide. “That’s not just any dragon,” he said, looking at her with a knowing smile. “That’s Flemeth.”

“Oh, well in that case…” Renya leaned forward conspiratorially, pretending to understand the implication. “We are going to need reinforcements.”

He nodded, looking excited, and ran over to the toy chest. Renya’s ears twitched as she heard the door creak behind her, but the boy didn’t notice and she didn’t turn around.

“I’ll be Ser Connor,” he said, picking up a red-haired knight. “And you can be Ser Renya.” He handed her another knight. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any elves…”

“That is okay. I like this one.”

The two sat and played on the floor for a while, until the brave Ser Connor slayed the dragon, knocking it from the castle. It lay on its side on the floor, its little mouth permanently painted into a snarl.

“And now I’m the hero of all Redcliffe!” he said happily, imitating the straight-backed and proud stance of the toy knight he held. Renya made her toy knight jump up and down, cheering, and then bow to the other toy. Connor giggled. His face suddenly fell.

“Oh no… oh no… Miss Renya, she’s coming back. I can’t fight it… I can’t…” He looked terrified, but then the scared little boy melted into a smirking, hovering desire demon. Renya suddenly wished she had brought more than her dar’misu with her, but she hadn’t wanted to frighten the boy more than she was going to do anyway.

“You will not have him. The only way to save his life is to allow me to stay. My death will cause him suffering for all his days. Leave the boy to me,” she said, flicking her tail back and forth.

Renya thought about the sweet boy with whom she had been playing for close to half an hour. She couldn’t leave him to this demon that had such control over him. Hating herself, she shook her head.

“Then you have sealed his fate,” the demon spat.

The battle was hard, with such a small weapon to use, but eventually the desire demon shrieked and fell to the floor, slain. The demon transformed back into Connor, who was gasping for air. Renya crouched next to him and picked him up, cradling him.

“Is she… gone…?” he asked. He was having trouble focusing on her. Renya swallowed.

“Yes. You were wonderful, Connor. You fought her off,” she said, trying to smile. He returned the smile, then winced.

“It hurts… Miss Renya, it hurts so badly. I feel as if I am burning up on the inside…” he looked at her, begging. Horribly, his strength was returning to him, but the pain seemed to only be increasing.

“You have saved your father…” Renya lied, trying to put off what was now imminent. She stroked his hair soothingly. “You saved him. You have done more than we could. You fought the demon and we won. You truly are a hero, Ser Conner…” She pressed the toy figure he had played with into his hand. She imagined the toy soldier was what Connor would have looked like when he grew up… and then tried to push that thought from her mind.

“A hero…” he gasped with a smile, gripping the toy tightly to his chest. He winced again. “You… you have to be a hero now, too, Miss Renya. Then we’ll both be heroes, like with the dragon.”

Renya nodded once. It wasn’t fair, she thought again. She drew her dar’misu and felt her hand shaking. Connor closed his eyes, looking tormented.

“Falon’din, ma ghilana mir din’an… da’len,” Renya murmured. She swallowed. The blade seemed to move of its own accord. Connor, as if proving himself worthy of the title of hero, struggled very little, gripping his toy warrior harder and harder, until it finally fell from his hands. The dagger clattered to the floor and Renya buried her face in his hair.

“Ir abelas, Connor. I am so sorry,” she choked out before starting to sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm to be away for a few days, so I just had to get this up here.... I cried when I wrote it, I cried when I edited it, and I cried going through it to format for AO3. This scene with Connor is the only one of the whole story that pretty much came out the way I wanted it to the first go around, so thank the creators for small favors.
> 
> The phrase Renya uses at the end is a little prayer to Falon'din, asking him to guide the person in death, and "da'len" is, of course, a term of endearment for a child.
> 
> In other news, I really liked Nyviel slapping Jowan. I could write a whole story about Nyviel's time at the Circle Tower (I won't) but I picture her never liking Jowan's friendship with Surana and Amell (particularly Surana), and now they might be made tranquil because of him.
> 
> Like I said, I'll be gone for a few days so I might not be able to post, but I hope you like the chapter!
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	39. Not Indifferent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Connor's death affects everyone.

Renya sat on one of the balconies, cross-legged on the ground, facing the distant forest. Her meditation had been troubled, to say the least. Sighing, she opened her eyes and saw that the sun was low on the horizon. She decided to try and force herself to eat, and walked down the three hallways and two staircases that separated her from the great dining hall. Before she entered, she straightened her green and brown Dalish robes that she had almost forgotten she’d brought with her. Her blood-splattered armor was being cleaned, polished, and oiled by one of the servants – Teagan’s idea, but Renya had looked so fearsome when she demanded the servant not be elven that even Isolde had agreed.

She entered the dining hall and the room went silent. She pulsed her jaw a few times as if daring anyone to challenge her. One of the arl’s knights approached her and she looked at him with annoyance already growing on her features.

“Thank you, ser,” he said meekly. “You saved us, and through means that none of us would have been able to do.” He bowed his head and walked away.

She was pleasantly surprised by his reaction, but not placated toward the situation. Heavy footsteps came up behind her.

“You have done a very difficult thing, Warden,” Sten stated. Renya didn’t look at him. She really wasn’t in the mood for one of his strange conversations.

“The child of my sister was possessed by a demon. While it is not proper for followers of the Qun to become upset during such times, it was… The leader of our clan did not go to the lengths you did for this boy, and he was not even of your own race.” He looked at her thoughtfully.

“Are you saying I should have killed him when we were here last?” she asked irritably.

“I am saying that I respect that you would try to save an innocent. And then perform your duty without quailing when asked.” He gently put his hand on Renya’s head and turned her attention to a far side of the room. “The rest of our traveling companions are over there, Warden.”

She saw Leliana and the rest of her group sitting in the far corner of the room, and she made her way around the room’s perimeter to sit with them. They were all rather quiet.

Leliana disappeared and floated back moments later with a bowl full of what looked like beef stew. Without looking at anyone, Renya began eating. She was halfway through the bowl before her brain caught up with her actions.

“Ma serannas,” she said to the bard.

“You looked like you were hungry,” Leliana said simply.

“So that’s it, then?” Alistair asked. “Eamon’s son is dead. And you killed him.”

“Alistair,” Leliana said with a warning glance. Renya finished chewing and swallowed.

“Yes. Connor is dead. I have killed him,” she affirmed without emotion, staring into her bowl.

Alistair dug his finger into the table. “And you’re just sitting here eating supper.”

“And I am sitting here eating… supper, as you say.” Her empty bowl was taken away by a pale-skinned hand and replaced almost instantly.

“Eat,” Leliana said gently, trying to distract her. Renya, still not looking at anyone, obeyed.

“How are you just sitting there like nothing happened?” Alistair asked. Leliana shot him a warning look, which he ignored.

“Might I suggest you stop talking, Alistair? ‘Tis hardly the time to listen to you speak of things which you do not understand,” Morrigan commented, looking at the Warden with some concern.

Her words were meant to end the conversation, but had the exact opposite effect. Alistair exploded.

“You killed an innocent child!” he bellowed, slamming his hands onto the table. “The arl’s son! You just… just walked in there and killed him! How could you? And now you sit here and eat like nothing has happened!”

Renya slowly put her spoon down. Somewhere in her numb brain, anger was beginning to bubble.

“Keep eating,” Leliana said pointedly, picking up the spoon and putting it back in the Warden’s bowl.

“You were not there,” Renya said slowly through clenched teeth.

“I didn’t have to be,” Alistair said hotly. “I know what happened. I know enough about what you did…”

“Alistair!” Leliana cut in sharply.

Renya rose from the table slowly and deliberately. She leaned across the table and grabbed Alistair by the front of his armor, pulling him toward her.

“Renya,” Leliana said now, touching her arm. But the elf wrenched away, glaring at the other Wardren.

“You were not there,” Renya said again, her voice dangerously soft. The anger bubbling inside her was reaching its boiling point. “You do not know what happened in that room.”

Alistair was finally silent, his eyes wide as his fellow Warden stared at him with murder etched into every inch of her face.

“No,” she continued, her voice beginning to rise. “Where were you, Alistair? Where were you when duty called? Oh, I remember now. Outside in the hallway, distracted by a _fenedhis statue of one of your seth’lin gods!_ ” she bellowed, her voice echoing around the hall.

“But, I…” His face was turning red.

“Did you think that being a Grey Warden meant always doing happy, fluffy, wonderful things? I do not remember Duncan ever saying anything like that. I seem to remember him saying it was work, sacrifice, doing the job because it has to be done. So where were you?” She was practically spitting now.

Alistair had found his anger and it matched hers. “You think I don’t know about being a Warden? It’s just that you sit here being so indifferent about killing a _child!_ ”  
  
With that, the boiling anger inside Renya exploded out of her.

“I am _not_ indifferent!” she shrieked, slamming her hand down on the table for emphasis. She released Alistair with a shove, and he swung his arms to keep his balance. The elf knocked into her bench as she stepped over it, jarring Leliana and Nyviel, and stormed out of the hall. Her robes flowed behind her and she was very aware of the silence that had filled the room. After she left, she heard the room erupt in conversation again. She took a breath and walked down the hall, around a corner, and found a very nice suit of armor standing at attention.

***

A loud crash from down the far hallway caused Leliana to quicken her pace. At least now she knew where Renya had gone. The bard turned the corner and saw the elf standing in the middle of a pile of armor pieces next to a now-empty pedestal. Renya’s breathing was heavy as she stared down at the scattered pieces, her hands clenched into fists.

“There’s another one down the hallway,” Leliana supplied softly, pointing. The elf rounded on her.

“Leave me alone, Leliana. I do not want to talk.”

“Then…” Leliana hesitated. She took a breath. “Then may I at least stay with you? You should not be alone when you are this angry.”

Renya shrugged and grunted before stalking down the hallway. Leliana sighed and followed her. She followed her out of the castle, down through the village and out into an open field. She wasn’t sure the elf was going to stop before they reached the forest, but she did. In fact, the stop was so abrupt that Leliana almost walked into her.

“You were serious when you said you did not want me to be alone,” the Warden observed. She slumped. “I killed a fledgling, Leliana. A little, innocent da’len who had done nothing wrong except want to save his father’s life. And I killed him.”

Leliana had no idea what to say, so they stood silently for a few minutes. “Why did you play with him?” she whispered finally.

“He deserved at least that much,” the elf murmured miserably. She nodded with understanding. “That is right. I forgot that I passed you in the doorway on my way out. How much did you see?”

“I watched… everything. Renya, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to come in the room and make it worse for either of you…”

“I am glad,” Renya said evenly. “I am glad you were there, and I am glad you did not enter. I would not have been able to… do that… if you had been standing in front of me. You must think I am a monster,” she murmured, looking away.

“I think no such thing. It was terrible what you were asked to do, but…” Leliana sighed. “We tried everything else. That poor boy… you had no other option.” She tentatively reached out and squeezed Renya’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

“For killing a child?” Renya said miserably.

“For having the strength to release him. He was right, you know. You are a hero.”

Renya’s throat constricted. She had never felt less like a hero in her life. Heroes didn’t kill fledglings. She squinted out toward the trees, shaking her head. “I must leave.”  
  
Leliana’s heart dropped. “What?” she asked, paling.

“For tonight,” Renya clarified. “I must go to the forest and clear my thoughts. I will return tomorrow. I promise.” She whistled shrilly and waited. Soon, Elgar came bounding over from the outdoor kennels he had been lying in. The Warden caught Leliana’s expression.

“I am not deserting, Leliana,” she said. She put her hand on Leliana’s shoulder, and the bard was comforted by it; it felt solid and warm. Renya’s eyes twinkled a little. “Do not follow me this time. I cannot promise I will miss twice.”

Leliana chuckled, then grabbed Renya’s hand. “Then will you promise to return?”she asked. “Will you promise me?”

“I promise,” Renya said, nodding, squeezing the other woman’s hand. “I promise you,” she added quietly, before slipping away from her, dog at her side.

***

“What do you mean, _she left?_ ” Alistair bellowed at the Chantry sister later that night.

“You were the one who told me she likes to figure things out on her own,” Leliana replied hotly.

“I meant when we were in camp! This is not okay! This is not okay at all!” Alistair looked distraught, although after their conversation over supper, Leliana wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted Renya to be safe or because he did not want the responsibility of leading the group after he saw what that might entail.

“The Warden has been trustworthy in all things,” Morrigan said loyally while turning a page of the great book Renya had given her. She was seated in a chair by the fireplace in the little room they had been given by Teagan. “I’m sure she will return in the time she has given.”

“When did she say she would be back?” Alistair demanded. Leliana hesitated.

“Tomorrow, I think,” she said. Now that she applied herself to remembering, she couldn’t recall if Renya had given a time or not.

“Great. Great. This is just great,” Alistair mumbled. He buried his face in his hands. “This is my fault, isn’t it?”

“Well, maybe the situation could have been handled differently…” Leliana said gently.

“Yes.” Morrigan’s reply was much more to-the-point.

Nyviel and Wynne entered the room then, both looking tired. They had been sent to attend to the arlessa and the arl right after supper, and their faces did not promise good news.

“The arlessa will recover in good time and with few long-lasting effects,” Wynne reported.

“And Eamon?” Alistair asked. Wynne sighed.

“He’s still not awake,” Nyviel supplied sadly. “The arlessa says that his last hope is to find the ashes of Andraste.”

“Andraste’s ashes? Are they even real?”

“Some believe so,” Wynne said. “Brother Genetivi, a scholar in the Chantry, has been researching the Ashes for some time. His home is in Denerim. Perhaps we should meet with him and see what he knows?”

All eyes fell on Alistair.

“Perhaps…” he said uncomfortably.

“Where’s Renya?” Nyviel asked suddenly, having finally noticed the lack of elf in the room.

“She’ll be back tomorrow,” Leliana said. She didn’t miss the disappointment in the young elf’s face.

“Oh…”

“But Alistair is here,” Wynn commented. “Must we wait until she returns to decide our actions?”

“She leads this group,” Morrigan said with a shrug as Alistair continued to stand by the door, looking awkward. “’Twould be the reasonable thing to do, yes?”

“Where did she go?” Nyviel asked, propping her staff in a corner.

“She… needed to clear her head. I think she is spending the evening in the forest.” Leliana sighed with resignation. “It… it may be good for her. I do not know.”

Wynne looked at Leliana very hard. “Did you suggest this… brief journey?”

“No,” Leliana said honestly. “I was appalled at the thought and…” She looked at Wynne, suddenly calculating. The mage appeared to be studying her. “And she insisted. I am in no place to force her to do anything,” she added, forcing her voice to sound even. “And I trust her to return. She would not abandon us, nor this cause.”

“Hm. I think that is true, enough.”

“Well, ‘tis been a trying day,” Morrigan said, rising and stretching luxuriously. “When the Warden returns tomorrow, I for one intend on being ready to continue this journey, wherever it may lead us.” She sauntered out of the room, but shot Leliana a look that was distinctly troubled.

No one slept well that evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho, boy. A philosophical difference between the two Wardens, perhaps? I really love when Renya loses her temper, I'm not going to lie. It's so unexpected. Anyway, we're down a Warden and up a few more problems. And Wynne is already sending out feelers to determine the nature of Leliana and Renya's relationship...
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	40. Leaving Redcliffe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few loose ends, then the group must continue their journey.

“I want my mama!” the little child wailed, pounding on the ground.

“We’re trying to help you,” Alistair said, frustration bleeding into his voice. He looked at the women standing behind him helplessly. Nyviel looked uncomfortable, and Morrigan simply raised an eyebrow at him. Wynne was tending to the arlessa this morning. So, with a small smile, Leliana crouched down.

“Come here, child. We want to help you find your mother,” she said gently. She had changed back into her Chantry robes after it was clear that Renya was not going to join them to break the fast, and for at least some time after that. It was more comfortable, and, in this case, she hoped it would prompt the child to trust her. She picked the little one up and tried to settle her on her lap, but the little girl fought back tooth and nail.

“No! You’re not my mama! Where is my mama?” she demanded, tears pouring down her cheeks.

“Can you maybe ask someone if anyone is missing their daughter?” Leliana asked Alistair pointedly, trying to avoid the child’s swinging arms.

“Oh, right.” He walked off to find the mayor.

“Although, with the racket the child is making, ‘tis a wonder her parents do not hear her. Or perhaps they are now staying away on purpose.”

Unfortunately the little girl heard her, and her wailing increased. Leliana shot the witch a dirty look.

“What is going on here?”

Leliana looked up and smiled brightly despite the screaming child in her lap. Renya had returned, still in her Dalish robes and looking much more relaxed than the last time Leliana had seen her.

“She’s lost her mother,” Leliana explained to Renya, who had crouched down to speak with the Chantry sister. Leliana fought a smile as she saw Renya’s eyes sweep over her.

“And the good sister is helping her?” she teased.

“I am only trying to –hey!”

The child had turned toward the new voice and, upon seeing Renya, had tried to launch herself out of Leliana’s lap toward the elf. Leliana grabbed her, sure that Renya would not want to be assaulted by a small human child so early in the day. Again, the elf surprised her.

“Come here, then, da’len,” she said softly, offering out her arms. Leliana let the child go, and the girl immediately threw her arms around Renya’s neck and started to sob into her robes.

“Mama is gone! I can’t find her anywhere!” her voice came, muffled in Renya’s shoulder.

“Hush, da’len,” Renya murmured, beginning to rock her. “Hush, da’vhenan. You are safe. Do not fear…” The little girl continued crying and Renya kept rocking her. After trying to shush her for a little while longer, Renya settled herself into a seated position and began to sing.

 _“Elgara vallas, da’len. Melava somniar. Mala tara aravas, ara ma’desen melon._  
_Iras ma ghilas, da’len, ara ma’nedan ashir? Dirthara lethlenan’as, bal emma mala dir._  
_Tel'enfanim, da’len. Irassal ma ghilas, ma gara mir renan. Ara ma’athlan vhenas._  
_Ara ma’athlan vhenas…”_  
  
The elf sung the lullaby twice, and by the time she finished, the little girl was fast asleep, Renya’s voice fading into the silence and the tweeting of the morning birds. The three other women stood watching the elf slowly rock the human child with an array of expressions, from shock to affection, and somewhere in between. Even Alistair, returned from his fruitless search, stood staring at his fellow Warden with his mouth slightly open. Renya scooped the little girl up and stood, looking at her carefully to see if she showed signs of waking. Leliana gestured toward the Chantry, and Renya clenched her jaw a few times before nodding.

They entered the small building, and Renya was again aware of the templar watching her, now looking even more suspect as she carried an unconscious human child in her arms. But the Revered Mother’s words held, and they did not approach her. The Mother was in her office and stood in surprise when she saw Renya carrying the little girl, accompanied by a Chantry sister she didn’t know. Leliana hurried to explain.

Five minutes later, the little girl was laid on a cot in a room off of the sanctuary, with the Mother’s promise to keep her safe until the girl’s parents came to find her. When Leliana and the Mother stepped outside of the room and talked, Renya stayed and watched the little girl sleep. Her thoughts drifted to Connor. She shook her head and crouched by the head of the bed, studying the small human. She never had really thought about human fledglings before. They were so little. It was odd to think of a human as little; they were almost always at least a little bigger than she was.

Meanwhile, the Revered Mother had finished assuring Leliana that the girl would be quite safe and they would search for the girl’s family. As she was speaking, a very distraught woman entered the Chantry. She hurried up to the Mother and lay sister.

“My daughter!” she cried. “She wandered off, and I cannot find her!”

Leliana smiled. “Come with me.”

They entered the room where the little girl was still sleeping, with Renya crouched on the ground beside her.

“Oh, thank the Maker,” the woman said, relieved. “You left her with your elf.”

Leliana inwardly cringed. _Of all the things she could have said..._ But she had to admit, in her robes of green and brown, crouching by a human’s bedside, Renya looked every part the servant elf.

The elf rose slowly and turned. Leliana shook her head almost imperceptibly at her. Imploringly.

“I am my own elf… miss.”

The woman’s eyes flitted to the markings on Renya’s forehead, and Leliana silently prayed that the woman would not overreact.

“You’re a Dalish!” she said with alarm. Renya sighed.

“And one of the best people I have ever seen with children,” Leliana cut in. “Your daughter was so upset, and Renya was the only one who could calm her. She was Maker-sent, indeed,” she added, folding her hands demurely in front of her like an obedient sister. Renya struggled between fighting the urge to roll her eyes at Leliana’s act – Leliana had a small blade strapped to her forearm under her Chantry robes, and they both knew it – and feeling grateful for her words, because the woman visibly relaxed.

“Oh. Your pardon, then. Th-thank you,” the woman said, still staring at the elf warily.

“Mama?” The little girl had woken up. She sat up and grabbed Renya’s hand, peering out from behind her. “Is that you?” Her face split into a grin when she saw the woman and she hopped off the bed, pushing past the amused elf. “Mama!”

Her mother grabbed her into a big hug and lifted her into the air. “Don’t you ever do that again!” she reprimanded. “Oh, but I’m so glad you’re okay,” she amended, hugging the girl once more. She looked at the elf with new respect. “Thank you. Truly. Maker’s blessings on you.”

Renya smiled and nodded politely.

“She adores our elf, Felia,” the woman explained. “And loves listening to her stories. I’m not surprised she took a liking to you,” she said, her eyes sweeping up to Renya’s forehead again. She switched back to the green eyes. “Thank you.” She left without giving Renya a chance to respond.

“I saw that the child has been found,” Alistair commented when Renya and Leliana exited the Chantry a few minutes later. “Are we ready to go?”

“What?” Renya said in a monotone.

“Oh, that’s right, if you hadn’t run away last night, you would know the plan, wouldn’t you?”

“Alistair!” Leliana glared at him. Renya surveyed him with hardened eyes.

“But I did, so tell me what your amazing plan is, Alistair. I am ready to be dazzled.”

“We’re going to Denerim,” he said baldly, crossing his arms. “We need to find Andraste’s Ashes to save Eamon. I don’t think this is something that can be solved with murder- ow!”

Nyviel had stomped on his foot and shot him a look. Renya glared at the other Warden.

“I will pack my things, then.”

***

“My lady! Renya!”

Renya turned, adjusting her pack and weapons over her armor. Teagan hurried up to her. “I bid you to return safely, and soon,” he said. “I am sorry for all the trouble this town has caused you.”

“I am more sorry for you, Teagan. And for your nephew.”

Teagan nodded sadly. “Yes. He was a good boy, very bright. This was in his hand. I had wondered if you wanted to keep it?”

She looked down as his open palm. The little red-haired knight rested in it; it looked like it had been cleaned. Renya started to shake her head, but Teagan pressed it into her hand. “Until you return, at least.” The elf nodded slowly, gripping the toy tightly in her hand until it hurt.

“And your sword. Forgive me, I saw you left it upstairs. Shall I retrieve it for you?”

“ _No,_ ” she said sharply. Teagan startled. “Ir abelas. No, I do not want that dagger returned to me. I cannot fight with a blade that has killed an innocent child. It can rust at the bottom of the ocean for all I care.”

The bann nodded. “I understand. We will dispose of it in a… proper manner.”

“Thank you for all your kindness, Teagan. You have been more understanding than most.”

“It is always my pleasure, my lady. Always. Return soon. Perhaps some good can yet come to this family.”

***

Renya slipped the little toy into her pack as she stepped out into the midmorning sun, her newly polished and oiled armor glinting. She pretended to not see Leliana staring at her, a small smile playing on her lips as her eyes slowly swept over Renya’s figure. As she passed the bard, she winked, and Leliana grinned, turning away. Behind Leliana, Wynne shook her head. They set off. Nyviel was immediately by Renya’s side, chattering at her about what she had missed in her absence.

“…and _breakfast!_ Renya it was amazing. I’ve never seen so many things I like to eat in one place!” she gushed. Renya chuckled and let the other elf ramble on in loving detail about each type of breakfast food she had eaten. She finally talked herself into silence, and they walked along comfortably for a while. Renya’s thoughts drifted, not for the first time, to her friends’ nightmares from the Circle Tower.

“You know, Nyviel,” Renya said some time later. “I have been thinking of what you said about the desire demon…”

Nyviel swallowed. “Oh?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

“Yes.” She looked at the young elf seriously. “About what it said… you do not need to do anything special to belong here. You already belong with us; you have chosen to fight alongside the Grey Wardens and that is no small promise to make. You do not need to prove anything more. I am glad you are here, and not just because you are another elf.”

“You… you really think that?” Nyviel’s face began to split into a grin.

“I do.”

Nyviel smiled. Maybe she wasn’t becoming an enchanter, but this felt just as good… Maybe even better.

“Thank you…”

“Ma serannas.”

“What?”

“Ma serannas. It is the Dalish expression for thank you. Ma serannas.”

The younger elf’s smiled widened. “Ma serannas,” she said proudly.

Renya nodded approvingly, not noticing Leliana looking crestfallen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a little lighter after the last few chapters. I really like the idea of Renya being so sweet with children, especially since she may or may not have a "certain severity" to her. I also like thinking Leliana dressed as a lay sister with a knife strapped to her arm underneath the robes, because it's terrifying (haha).
> 
> The song Renya sings is, in fact, a Dalish lullaby, with lyrics found in _The World of Thedas, Vol. 2._ Funnily enough, someone (not me) wrote a fantastic melody for this and posted it on YouTube [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zl3CmzQY1So) so check it out and leave them some love, as well!
> 
> Translations that are much more poetic can be found online, but roughly (it's been a while since I studied the Dalish language) it means:
> 
>  _The sun is setting, my child. It's time to dream. Your mind travels. But I will hold you close._  
>  _Where do you go, my child, when you are sleeping? Dream_ (or, find knowledge) _of our lost lands in the depths of yourself_ (or, your mind)  
>  _Do not worry_ (or, fear), _my child. Wherever you travel, follow my voice. I will call_ (or, guide) _you to my home_ (or, I will bring you home). _I will call you home._
> 
> Oh, look. I think I just found the title of this story........
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	41. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions discuss the state of the Wardens' relationship, and Leliana, Wynne, and Nyviel begin to settle into a dynamic.

“Should we be concerned?” Nyviel asked, falling into step beside Leliana. The bard looked at her, calculating.

“Concerned for what?”

“Well…” Nyviel’s gaze fell onto the two Wardens at the front of the group. Alistair had just grabbed his maps back from Renya and the elf threw her hands in the air in frustration. From here, neither woman could clearly hear the remark Alistair made, but the tone didn’t sound particularly friendly.

“Ah. I see,” Leliana said, watching Renya point in a direction somewhat north of where they were going. “They will come around, I am sure.” She glanced over at the other elf. “Renya is very reasonable, and I don’t think Alistair wishes to lead us.”

Nyviel frowned thoughtfully. “That’s interesting.”

“Do you not think so?” Leliana turned back to the two Wardens, who were back to walking down the road silently, a few arms-lengths between them, determinedly not looking at each other.

“No. Well, I mean, I guess.”

With a hopeful little flutter in her stomach, Leliana turned back to Nyviel. “You prefer Alistair?”

Nyviel laughed and Leliana’s heart clenched again. “No. Renya’s more my type, I think.” She rubbed her forehead, clear of vallaslin, subconsciously.

“I see.”

“Oh Maker, now what?” Nyviel added, oblivious to how Leliana was glaring at the road ahead of them. The two Wardens had stopped and were pointing in different directions, their glares matching their clipped voices. Wynne walked up and stood somewhat between them, looking exasperated as she tried to mediate their latest argument.

“Fine,” Renya said a few minutes later as Alistair walked over to Bodhan’s cart, Wynne following him and shaking her head. She glanced at the other companions. “We will just camp here for the night.”

***

“Why did you leave the cloister?” Wynne asked the next evening as they were looking for a place to camp. “You must have been happy there.”

“I was,” Leliana replied, a touch of sadness in her voice. “I loved the peace there, the comfort of the Chant and the simplicity of the life. There were parts I didn’t like – people I didn’t like, I suppose.” She sighed. “Some believed their words to be more important than the words of others. Me in particular. I do not miss being looked down on. So what if I made mistakes when saying the Chant sometimes?”

Wynne smiled. “I think you’re missing the point. The Chantry teaches that the Chant is to be spread across the world. If you speak the Chant wrong as a lay sister, you are not able to spread Andraste’s Word.”

Leliana frowned and shook her head. “The Maker sees our hearts, no? He speaks to each of us, give us each gifts, from your magic to Renya’s… Renya’s eyesight.”

“And your singing, my dear,” Wynne said gently, pulling Leliana’s attention back onto her.

“I… oh, thank you,” she replied with a small, humble nod of her head. “But my point is, the Maker speaks to all. They just do not know how to listen,” she continued, glancing at Nyviel as the elf came over to listen.

“That’s the problem, I think,” Wynne said now. “Your ideas are different. And that scares them. Although I’m surprised,” she continued. “That you find no fault with magic, being a Chantry sister.”

Leliana shrugged, her face immediately guarded. “You know I had a life prior to my work with the Chantry, Wynne. The mage I worked with… He was a better person that I ever was. That is all that matters at the end of the day. The type of person you are.” She glanced at Renya and then looked away guiltily.

Her expression matched the feeling in Wynne’s heart. _It’s for their own good,_ she reminded herself. _And the good of Ferelden._

But she patted Leliana’s shoulder in spite of herself. “You have a good heart, Leliana.” she heard herself say. Leliana swallowed and managed a wavering smile when she glanced at the mage.

“Hey,” Nyviel said now, knocking her shoulder against Leliana’s. They had stopped in a small clearing and appeared to be setting up camp. “Do you think you could help me convince Renya to cook tonight? I can’t bear another night of Alistair’s culinary delights…” she continued, ignoring Wynne’s glare.

Leliana looked at Nyviel curiously, calculating. She swallowed again before nodding and forcing a smile at the younger elf.

“Yes. Poor Renya won’t know what hit her. We will have to spare Alistair his feelings, however.” She studied for Nyviel’s reaction, but the elf was just looking at her curiously. “I do not think his ego could take another hit,” she added, noting the other Warden standing stormily by the trees, glaring at the horizon with his arms crossed.

Nyviel exhaled a short laugh. “Oh no,” she said sarcastically. “Anyway, Renya told me about this one Dalish dish called… called… I don’t remember what it’s called, but she told me she’d show me how to make it. Let’s go.”

Leliana’s heart pounded in her ears. It wasn’t fair.

But Nyviel, oblivious, took Leliana’s arm and pulled her over to where Renya and Morrigan were building a fire.

***

“So you never really got to know the other Wardens,” Alistair said a few silent days later. Renya looked at him curiously. They hadn’t been getting along, nor had they really spoken much since Connor’s death. When they did speak, it was very curt and quest-related at best, and clipped arguing at worst.

The other Warden hesitated, but only for a moment. “We were like a big family. There was this man… Bennhorn, Bannelthorn, something like that, I can’t remember. Anyway, he had the biggest, fuzziest beard you ever saw. And the man could drink,” he said with a chuckle. “One day, he bet all of us he could drink us all under the table. For every half pint we drank, he would drink a full pint. We wound up all passed out from one end of the hall to the other, and this bear of a man was still drinking. Duncan came in and found us all unconscious. When he found out what had happened, he laughed until he almost… he almost…”

Alistair’s face darkened, and Renya grabbed his arm. “I am really sorry, Alistair.” She took a deep breath. “For a lot of things.”

“Me too,” he said heavily. He looked at her out of the side of her eye. “Currently, because of my yelling at Redcliffe. You did what was right; there was no other option. I was just so… frustrated. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

They stood silently for a few seconds, watching each other think. As one, they heaved a sigh.

“Apology accepted. On one condition,” Renya said, smiling.

“What’s that?”

“You let me have a bite of that jerky you’re eating.”

“Fair enough.” He held it out to her and Renya bit into it enthusiastically, pulling off a piece.

“Hey! That was a lot bigger than a bite!”

“What? It all fits in my mouth, doesn’t it?” Between her accent and the food, Alistair could barely make out what she had said. He laughed, and Renya joined in, covering her mouth with the back of her hand while she chewed.

 _And just like that, they’re best friends again,_ Leliana thought with a smile. She was glad; the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden needed to stick together.

***

On and on they marched, through rain and sun. One evening, the camp was awoken by yelling. Nyviel, who was on watch, ran over from where she had been standing to find Alistair and Renya sitting up on their bedrolls, sweating and out of breath. Both were gripping their swords and staring at each other with terror. The rest of the camp had also awoken at the noise and was investigating.

“You saw it too?” Alistair asked Renya. He wiped his brow.

“I did… it looked like a dragon…”

“That’s the archdemon,” Alistair said grimly. “I don’t think it’s active yet, but the fact that we’re both dreaming about it is a bad sign.”

The two Wardens looked at each other, each trying to read the other’s mind. Finally Renya stood.

“Nyviel, why don’t you get some rest? I am not going to be sleeping for the rest of the night anyway, so I will keep watch,” she said. The younger elf shook her head.

“It’s okay, you need to sleep…”

The Warden crossed her arms and sighed. “It is a poor use of resources for the two of us to be awake. I have no desire to go back to sleep,” she said flatly. “I will finish your watch and then take my own.” She gathered her armor and started to put it on. Both Nyviel and Leliana moved to help her, but she waved both of them off. Again, she ignored Leliana’s gaze, which went from sweeping over her figure to looking concerned.

“I’ll stay up with you to keep you company,” Nyviel said. “Maybe you could tell me more about evune’nira?”

Renya nodded with a small smile, appreciating that the younger elf was trying to help keep her spirits up. If she looked anything like Alistair right now, the younger elf’s efforts were very understandable. Alistair flopped back down on his bedroll, although he didn’t look like he was going to sleep anytime soon, either. The two elves began to walk to the perimeter of the camp. Leliana ran up behind them and grabbed Renya’s arm. The bard seemed very strained and Renya looked at her curiously. She nodded Nyviel on, and the two were left alone.

“Are… are you sure you are going to be alright?” Leliana asked.

“Yes, it is just the camp. I will be fine…”

“No, I mean, staying up for so long. You could stay with… we could sit together and I could tell you stories, maybe make you feel better so you could rest…?”

Renya gave her a tired smile. “I will be fine. It is only a few more hours, anyway.”

“I just…” Leliana rested her fingertips on the silver griffon emblazoned on Renya’s breastplate. “I worry for you sometimes.”

Renya glanced down at Leilana’s fingers, and the redhead’s eyes grew wide as she pulled away suddenly. “I’m… I’m so sorry. I wasn’t… I shouldn’t have…!”

“It is fine, it is just…” But Renya found herself addressing air as Leliana ran back to her tent, face buried in her hands. She watched her go, shaking her head in confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of you commented on what a jerk Alistair was being (which he was), but I just can't see the two Wardens staying angry at each other for long, at least for this. They both realize that emotions were running high, and also realize they need each other. So... they're friends again. I hope the perspectives from the other companions made sense; Alistair and Renya weren't saying anything of plot importance when they were arguing, so I chose a different perspective to illustrate their state of being.
> 
> There may come a day when Renya loses her temper and punches someone, but, as Aragorn says, "it is not this day!"
> 
> In other news, what's the deal with Nyviel and Leliana?
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	42. Personal Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair chats about his family, and a darkspawn attack results in some uncomfortable questions.

“Since we’re going to Denerim,” Alistair said to Renya the next afternoon. “I was wondering… my sister – well, half-sister – lives there. If we have time, I was hoping we could maybe stop in and see her? We haven’t seen each other for years, and I… family just seems important right now…”

Renya nodded. “Of course. I did not know you had a sister.”

“No, not many people do,” Alistair said sadly. “She’s a little older than me, but we didn’t know each other that long before I was brought to Eamon’s, and then I was sent to the Chantry…” he ended in a grumble.

“I see. Well, I do not see why we should not have time to meet her. We only have to meet this Brother Genetivi, which should not take long at all. Is she like you?” Renya asked.

“You know, I don’t really remember.”

“…Cailan was like you,” Renya commented softly. “Do not worry, it is a compliment,” she added with a smile.

“I’m not the king, don’t even try that,” Alistair said warningly.

“What? You both have senses of humor, and you both…”

“And here we were, getting along so well,” Alistair said with a smirk. “I was going to ask if we could braid each other’s hair later and everything.”

“Hm. I see what you mean. You and Cailan are much different,” Renya replied seriously. At Alistair’s shocked look, she smiled. “He had much nicer hair. Better for braiding.”

Alistair stared at her for a minute, brows furrowed, then started laughing. Renya laughed along as she rested her hands on the hilts of her blades. The both sobered at the same time, glancing at each other.

“Darkspawn,” Renya murmured, pulling out her swords. They advanced, the rest of the group fanning out and following behind the Wardens.

A terrible screeching noise filled the air as the darkspawn saw them and charged. It was awful; they were outnumbered and quickly overwhelmed. Renya signaled at her fellow Warden, realizing half a second later that it was Alistair, and not Tamlen, with whom she was trying to communicate. But Alistair nodded and slammed his way to the middle of the pack, roaring and rapping his sword on his shield to get their attention. Renya slipped into the shadows and took off her bow, nimbly climbing up the branches of a tree before taking aim.

“One, two, three…” she counted as she fired.

Nyviel screamed, and Renya turned to see her be knocked down by a large darkspawn with long, cruel claws. Leliana saw her fall and hesitated.

“Leliana! Help!” Nyviel yelled, casting spells to protect herself from the claws. Two arrows buried neatly in the creature’s neck and it collapsed on the ground next to her. She sat up and saw a darkspawn running toward Leliana’s turned back as the bard watched Nyviel sit up.

“Look out!” she called, sending a spell over Leliana’s shoulder and freezing the darkspawn where it stood. Leliana immediately turned and killed it with a flurry of dagger-swipes.

Renya, still firing arrows into the attacking horde, wondered at Leliana’s hesitation before picking off another darkspawn that was rushing at Morrigan. Sten and Wynne were standing back to back, the qunari disposing of the monsters with practiced precision as Wynne chanted spells.

A few minutes later, the creatures lay dead. Interestingly, some of them carried coin, and, with another look passing between them, Alistair and Renya collected what they could and added it to their treasury. Renya sliced off another moneybag with the silverite dar’misu Garrison had given her and looked inside, eyebrows raised. Why would a darkspawn be carrying gold sovereigns? She shrugged and added the money to her purse.

“Well, at least we will not have to worry about coin if we ever need to buy anything,” she quipped, returning to the front of the procession with Alistair. He smirked.

“I can’t imagine a darkspawn walking into a shop to buy supplies, can you?”

Wynne walked up to them. “Wardens, I have been meaning to discuss something with you.”

“Of course, Wynne,” Alistair said politely.

“I wonder at all the people in this group,” she said, walking beside them. “Of course you must lead us, but a qunari warrior and an apostate? What is their business here?”

“They are important assets to our cause, and the Wardens will not turn away help where it is offered,” Renya said, wondering at the woman’s concern.

“I suppose you trust them?”

“Yes,” Renya said. “I-”

“And the bard? Forgive me, but after your attack…” She glanced at the scars on the side of Renya’s face. “Do you think it is wise to have her remain with the group?”

Alistair intervened. “Leliana has been very loyal thus far,” he said. “Her talents will only come in handy. And… I trust her,” he said, managing to not look at Renya. “She has been a good friend.”

“Her past is a liability.”

“Weren’t you the one who told me we all needed to work together?” Renya asked.

“Yes, but-”

The Warden’s eyes narrowed. “I noticed that you did not question your or Nyviel’s presence,” she commented, trying to keep accusation from her voice. “Why don’t you say what you mean?”

Alistair sighed. Renya could learn a thing or two from Leliana about people skills.

“I am merely saying that people’s pasts must be taken into account. The Blight is too important to gamble on personal feelings,” Wynne said, glancing at Leliana, who was trying to chat with Sten.

“Personal feelings?”

Wynne noted that the elf seemed legitimately confused. While part of her was relieved for the sake of their cause, a part of her also felt very badly for Leliana. She was a sweet girl and deserved someone who made her happy.

Regardless of Wynne’s placated thoughts, Renya was still offended.

“Are we really going to talk about _personal feelings,_ Wynne?” Renya said now. “You are a talented mage, and I am glad you are here with us, but my past is that I am a shemlen-hating Dalish elf. Perhaps I should not be here, either? Perhaps you fear that I will kill you in your sleep?” she added evenly.

“That is not at all what I meant to convey, Renya,” Wynne replied, shaking her head.

“Then what are you saying?” the elf asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Speak in plain common tongue. I am tired of always being a step behind on what humans are trying to say.”

“Warden.” Sten had marched up to them. “The Chantry sister has alerted me that our meat supplies are diminished and will need replenishing soon. She did not wish to disturb you, saying you looked ‘busy,’ but if we must hunt before we make camp, the hours are beginning to escape us. I thought it best to approach you while there was still time.”

Renya nodded. “Thank you, Sten. Shall we find a place to camp, then?” she added to Alistair. He nodded and pulled out his maps. She glanced behind him toward Leliana, who was already walking toward him with a patient smile. She turned her attention back to Wynne. “Was there anything else you wanted to speak about right now?”

Wynne sighed. “No, not right now. Thank you for indulging me, Warden.” Renya nodded. The mage watched with an odd mixture of guilt and satisfaction as the elf glanced at Leliana and turned away, looking thoughtful and disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apartment-sitting for a friend, so I have lots of time to write and edit ;)  
> I really love the mental image of Renya and Alistair braiding each other's hair :D
> 
> Wynne just isn't giving up with her crusade, is she? And man, things just got real between Nyviel and Leliana...
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> Or, say hello and tweet us at [@TheAmbiGamer](https://twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer), book us a face on our [Facebook page](https://www.facebook.com/ambigamingcorner/), or even find us on [Google+](https://plus.google.com/s/ambigaming/top)!


	43. Company Kept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the excitement of the day, Leliana's sleep troubles her, and she seeks tentative refuge with the Warden.

_“Sketch? Sketch!” Leliana rasped. The elf was sleeping – or was perhaps unconscious – in a cage hanging from the ceiling. He startled awake._

_“Leliana?”_

_“Oh, Sketch. I’m glad you’re okay…”_

_“And you. It’s good to see you still… still in one piece,” the elf replied awkwardly. “Get me out of here, can you?”_

_“Just give me a moment.”_

_It took Leliana only a few minutes to pick the lock, and the mage hopped down out of the cage, stretching. He studied her. “Are you alright?”_

_“I’d rather not talk about that,” Leliana said, ignoring the shooting pain in her body._

_“And I’d still like to know who’s side you’re on… since you’re not with Raleigh,” said the human prisoner who had joined her._

_“I’m not on anyone’s side,” Leliana said darkly. “I just want out.”_

_“Leliana?” Sketch said incredulously._

_“I’m done, Sketch.”_

_The elven mage sighed. “Right. But we need to find Tug. He’s around here somewhere. He has to be!”_

_The search was long and winding, full of dripping walls and muffled screams from behind heavy stone doors. Finally they stumbled into a room full of wooden racks._

_“Maker…” Silas, the human, murmured. “Poor souls.”_

_“Wait, that’s…” Leliana began, squinting at one of the racks._

_“Tug!” Sketch cried, running over to him. “Tug, please…” He untied the ropes binding the dwarf to the stretching device. “Please, Tug. Wake up…”_

_“Oh… oh no… Oh no…” Leliana said breathlessly, following the elf across the room._

_“Tug? Tug…”_

_“I’m sorry, Sketch,” Leliana said quietly, feeling the dwarf’s neck for a pulse. She gazed down at the eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Tug,” she whispered. “This is all my fault…”_

_“He did it to save me,” Sketch said miserably. “He… in the other room. He kept laughing at them, no matter what they did. He was trying to keep them away from me. They… they wanted to take my hands. ‘The only way to control a mage,’ they said. But Tug, he… he wouldn’t let them… Tug…”_

_“I’m… I… It’s not…” Leliana blinked furiously as she stared down at her friend. Her face turned ugly. “She did that. With her beast. They will both… they will_ both _answer…”_

***

“Would you care for some company?”

Renya looked up from where she was sitting on the edge of camp. It was the small hours of the morning, and she had just finished walking around the camp four times and scaring away a little raccoon that had wandered too close and broken a branch near her. It wasn’t clear who had been more frightened at the unexpected encounter.

She smiled at the bard. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” she said jokingly.

“I woke up, and I’m not tired at all,” Leliana lied smoothly. She had woken up from her nightmare and had no desire to go to sleep again, and wanted more than anything to be near the safe presence of the Warden. She sat when she saw Renya’s arm gesture toward the ground next to her. They sat silently for a long time.

“You sing beautifully,” Leliana whispered some time later. “I heard you singing to yourself earlier, and I’ve been meaning to tell you I loved the lullaby you sang to that little girl in Redcliffe.”

“Thank you. The Dalish hold music in very high esteem.” Renya glanced at Leliana out of the side of her eye. “I thought you would prefer the Suledin I was singing when we first met, however.”

“You remember!” Leliana said happily.

“Of course I remember. I was sitting by myself with Elgar, I opened my eyes, and a Chantry sister was kneeling in front of me.” The elf shook her head. “Alistair had begged me not to make any more enemies; I admit that was the only reason I didn’t stand and bolt from the spot.”

“I’m glad you didn’t do that,” the bard said softly. She gripped her arms tightly in the silence that followed.

“Me, too.” Renya leaned back on her hands and looked up at the sky. Her ears twitched at a sudden noise, but it was just an owl swooping through the air.

Leliana smiled widely, wondering if Renya could see her expression in the dark - Nyviel had said that elven eyes could see much better in the dark than human eyes. She supposed that was why they glinted. “Perhaps I could tell you a story?” she asked, wanting a reason to keep talking to the elf.

“I feel so special. A trained Orlesian bard is sitting next to an elf to entertain her like she is some noble in a marble court,” Renya said. Leliana watched as the glints swiveled toward her. They crinkled, as if the face underneath them was smiling.

“Again with the marble courts,” Leliana said with a little shake of her head. “…And you are special,” she added before she could stop herself. She turned away quickly. “You are… a Grey Warden, and…” She cleared her throat.

“Do you know any stories about the Dalish?”

Leliana hesitated. “I know a little of your people. But I may be misinformed, and do not wish to offend you.”

“I think this is a good way for us to learn about each other,” Renya said briskly. “And I would not be offended,” she added more softly.

The bard nodded slowly. “I have heard a little about how the elves gained their freedom from the Tevinter Imperium…” she said slowly.

Renya grunted. “The first humans to enslave us,” she growled. She looked at Leliana seriously. “I would like to hear this story and see how humans tell this tale.”

Leliana hesitated. This was a terrible idea. Renya already seemed upset and the story hadn’t even begun yet. But she felt a hand lightly brush against her fingers.

“I will not be offended by what you say,” the elf said softly. She smiled. “You are too good of a storyteller for me to become upset by your words.” Her smile widened when she felt Leliana grab her fingers and squeeze them gently.

The bard’s heart was racing. She and Renya hadn’t been this close in days, but every reason she came up with sounded hollow to her. She had been busy, there were other people in the party who wanted to speak with her, she was… fleeting, a voice echoed in her head. No one likes broken things… Her mind’s eye showed her pictures of Renya and Nyviel walking together, laughing at some private joke. She gripped the fingers harder, and looked down when she felt the hand squeeze back.

“Are you alright? We do not have to talk about this if you do not want.” Renya laughed to herself. “A Dalish comforting a Shantri sister who is upset at the plight of the elves. Now I have seen everything!”

Leliana smiled. “I’m sorry. I… wanted to remember the beginning of the tale.” She cleared her throat and began. “When Andraste began her Exalted March against the Imperium, the great elven leader, Shartan, born in captivity, rose up to lead his people alongside her. He foresaw a future where the elves were free…”

She tried to see through the dark to study Renya’s expression, but couldn’t make out her features clearly, so she continued, hoping for the best. “Shartan was killed when Andraste was betrayed, but the elves continued to fight and eventually broke free of the Imperium. The elves then claimed the Dales and settled there in a land of their own.”

“But the humans had to take that from us, too…” Renya grumbled. She glanced at Leliana. “I am sorry, please continue.”

“The elves lived in the Dales for centuries and resurrected the worship of their gods. They allowed the building of no Chantry, which, as you can imagine, angered the Chantry, and the hostility eventually broke out into open war…”

“…which is still being waged…”

Leliana continued, feeling the grip on her hand become tighter. “The Chantry says the Dales struck first, but I do not know whether I believe that,” she commentated dryly.

“Are you just saying that?” The glints were peering at her again.

“I am not,” Leliana said. “The Chantry declared a Holy Exalted March against the elves, known for Andraste’s similar march against Tevinter. Why would the elves strike first?” She sighed. “The Dales and the elven cities were sacked, and the elven state dissolved. Some of the elves bitterly accepted their fate and surrendered to human rule, living in human cities and like second-class citizens. Others,” she smiled. “Were still fiercely proud of their heritage and refused to bow to the humans. Instead they became homeless wanderers. They were the elves of the Dales.” She looked at Renya. “The Dalish.” The clouds shifted, and Leliana could only stare at the elf. Sitting as she was, with her features dark against the moonlight and eyes glinting, she looked terrifying, mysterious, and venerable all at the same time.

“This is similar to the story I have heard, except in it, there is no doubt that the Shantri struck first,” Renya said thoughtfully. She crossed her arms in front of her. “And continue to strike.” She sighed. “Thank you for sharing this story. I enjoyed listening to you tell it.”

“Of course. I am glad it was not too upsetting.”

“Short of attacking the Dalish yourself, I am not sure there is anything you would do that would upset me, Leliana,” Renya said softly, so softly she wasn’t sure Leliana would be able to hear it.

“I would never attack the Dalish,” Leliana replied just as quietly. “I greatly enjoy your company; more people like you sounds positively delightful.”

Renya chuckled. “Perhaps when this is all over, we can… celebrate the evune’nira, or the daenlea’nira with my clan.”

“Would they allow it?

The elf hesitated. “How could they refuse?” she said lightly. “I would have ended the Blight and returned to them; the least they could do is allow me a guest at our celebrations.”

Leliana stifled a yawn. “That sounds wonderful.” She smiled as she imagined herself in a Dalish camp with Renya, sitting under the stars together.

“It is.” A comfortable silence fell between them. Renya listened to the chirping of crickets coming from the forest and sighed contentedly. It was a familiar sound, and it comforted her. “And I would enjoy celebrating with you,” Renya added softly some time later. She felt a weight press against her, and looked over to see Leliana peacefully sleeping while leaned against her shoulder. Renya smiled and settled in for the rest of her watch.

Hours passed before Renya felt her friend stir. Leliana sat up again, stretching a little. The sun was just beginning to come up. “You let me sleep?” she asked when Renya wished her a good morning. “I had come out here to keep you company. How terrible of me!”

“Not terrible at all; I did not mind. And you did keep me company.” The Warden shrugged. “...and you were perfectly safe here with me.”

Leliana opened her mouth to respond, before quickly closing it, embarrassed. She rose and Renya followed her. “I know,” she finally said before walking away. Before she entered her tent, she heard Nyviel begin making breakfast. Renya walked over and began chatting with her about the day’s travels.

_Fleeting things, Leliana…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! It's funny when those nightmares crop up, isn't it?... Anyway, a short one this time, but we'll be getting back to the meat of the story soon!
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	44. Darkness and Sunrises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The darkness does not stay forever.

It started to rain the next morning, and the group walked on miserably through the deepening mud, hoping to cover as much ground as they could before Bodahn’s cart got stuck and they would have to stop. Leliana was staring at the back of Nyviel’s head, wondering what had come over her before. The elf had always been nice to her, and they were traveling companions now.

_Nyviel was lying on the ground, casting spells frantically._

_“Leliana! Help!”_

_Leliana moved to help her instinctively, but then she paused._

_“An opportunity, no, my pretty thing?” a nasty voice whispered in her head._

Leliana felt disgusted with herself. How horrible. She would let an innocent person fall to the darkspawn for any reason? No. She was not like that. She was not like her. She was different, and _would_ be from now on. She walked on, nodding to herself as she watched Nyviel try to make conversation with Morrigan.

“Do you think I am difficult to get along with?” Renya asked grumpily, walking up beside Leliana. The bard looked at the soaked elf and smiled. She had wondered what Renya and Alistair had been arguing about before Renya stomped away in a huff. The poor thing was drenched, and her wet hair was stuck to her forehead, distorting the markings on it. Rain water was dripping off of her ears.

“No, not once the person gets to know you,” Leliana said. “You are… difficult to get to know, however.”

“Hm.”

“You have shown much patience with people you claim to hate, in the face of adversity and bigotry, and you are passionate about your cause,” she continued carefully. “Passionate people always ruffle feathers.”

“So that is a yes?”

“...passionate people also change the world.”

Renya twitched her eyebrow at Leliana. “Hm,” she said again. “You could have just said yes.”

“But that is why I am here, no?” Leliana asked cheerfully, studying for Renya’s reaction. The elf smiled and Leliana’s heart beat a little faster.

“To change the world with me? Yes, I thought that was why you came with me.”

“To…I mean…” Leliana realized what Renya had said and smiled. “Thank you, but I meant to smooth the way for you with my bardic abilities.”

“You are remarkable to watch,” Renya admitted carefully. Her face became blank again and she wiped her hair off her forehead.

“As are you,” Leliana murmured. She tapped Renya’s armor. “You are… incredible in your fighting, and you lead a group of such diverse people so easily. At least, you make it look easy,” she said as Renya laughed.

“Put an elf in a metal suit and amazing things start happening!” she said with a chuckle.

Leliana frowned. “You don’t like your armor?”

The Warden shrugged. “I am still not used to it. I never wore anything like this as a hunter, and I am still surprised by my reflection whenever I see it in a town.”

The party halted. Bodahn’s cart had gotten stuck, and Alistair and Sten went to help them out of the mud.

“But it looks so good on you!” Leliana protested, turning to face Renya fully. She started to blush, but continued anyway. She rubbed a finger thoughtfully across where Renya’s collarbone was covered by the armor. “You could really make a girl go weak in the knees, you know…” Her heart was pounding, but she forced herself to look Renya in the eye. The elf looked surprised, but then smiled.

“Maybe I should ask Bodahn if you could use his cart, then. I cannot have you falling down, not in this mud,” she said playfully. “You would look like you were covered in… what was that stuff at the arl’s? Chocolate pudding?”

Leliana smiled flirtatiously. “Oh, I could tell you many tales about being covered in pudding that I think you would be most interested in hearing…”

Renya stared at her and licked her lips nervously. Leliana watched the movement, her heart fluttering.

“Maybe not right now…” The elf turned to watch the men struggle to remove the cart from the mud, and Leliana followed her gaze with a sigh. A crack of thunder made all of them jump, and the light rain turned into a downpour as they all scrambled to set up cover.

A few frantic minutes later, they were sitting huddled under two of the large tents they had purchased at their last stay in Redcliffe. Wynne was healing Alistair, who had cut himself while moving the cart, and Sten was sitting on the ground with his eyes closed; he looked like he was meditating. Morrigan was sitting nearby, studying the great black tome as she was always doing now. Elgar was lying on the ground by Renya’s feet, looking very dejected as he had just been told off for shaking inside the tent and drenching his master in more rainwater. She reached into one of the food packs and pulled out a bone, handing it to him.

“Woof!” He wagged his tail, took it from her gently and began chewing happily.

Nyviel was sitting next to Renya, drying out her, Alistair’s, and Leliana’s armor so it didn’t rust. Renya was seated on the ground in her Dalish robes again, and Alistair was in a blue Warden tunic, fussing over one of the seams that was wearing out. Leliana sat down on Renya’s other side, dressed again in her Chantry robes.

“How do you do that?” Renya asked her.

“How do I do what?” the redhead replied, tucking her skirts around her. Renya reached out and brushed a piece of wet hair from her face.

“Still look good while soaking wet?”

“Oh. I… it’s…I…” Some bard she was.

“It’s because she’s Orlesian,” Nyviel offered with a smile. She winked at Leliana before turning back to Renya. “You know, alabaster skin pure and smooth like marble, elegantly carved features, accent as sweet as honey…”

Leliana, slightly confused as to why Nyviel would say such things about her with Renya sitting right there, was about to politely protest until she saw how uncomfortable Renya was looking. Maker, she didn’t think Renya was capable of blushing. Silently she hoped Nyviel would continue. She did.

“Beautiful clothing – we’ll have to go shopping when we’re in Denerim,” Nyviel added as an aside to Leliana. “And cut to show off their features, and…”

Renya cleared her throat. “Isolde’s accent is not nearly as nice,” she said defensively, crossing her arms. “And I doubt she would be half as pretty if she had a bucket of water dumped on her.” She paused, horrified, as she realized what she had said. She turned away from both women. “We should try that the next time we are in Redcliffe, however, just to be sure,” she added stiffly. Nyviel and Leliana laughed, Leliana looking very pleased.

“I didn’t know you liked my accent,” Leliana commented, still smiling. _Pretty… She thinks you’re pretty…_

Renya nodded curtly. “Yes.” She gave Leliana a teasing look. “Especially when you try to say Dalish words…”

“You’re teaching her Dalish, too?” Nyviel asked excitedly. Leliana’s happiness immediately turned to jealousy, knowing that the answer was no. She took a deep, calming breath.

“She picks up on it quickly,” Renya said, acting as if she hadn’t seen the odd look pass over Leliana’s face. “And she is able to translate human actions for me; I am afraid I am still at a loss in human society.”

“Warden?” Wynne had come over, and sat down with them. Elgar wagged his tail at her before returning to his bone. “Are we to camp here this evening?”

Renya sighed. “If Bodahn cannot move his cart through the mud, we have no choice. We have promised him protection in return for different services and I will not break that agreement.” She shook her head. “Denerim will still be there, even if we arrive a day later than planned.”

“Very good, Warden. And how are you feeling?” she asked now, appraising the Warden. The elf nodded heavily.

“I am well, considering. The last week has been… trying. But the Dalish are used to moving on from heartache,” she said, resting her hand on her silverite dar’misu that now dangled from her belt.

“Are they?” Wynne said with interest. “I thought that the Dalish were interested in learning their past?”

“Learning it, not dwelling on it,” Renya replied. She frowned a little when she saw Wynne’s expression brighten. “Besides, Alistair and I have a job to do. I cannot let these things affect me to the point where I can no longer function.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Wynne said approvingly. She yawned. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I may go rest. I am still not used to walking such distances.”

Renya smiled. “Sleep well, Wynne.”

“And you, Warden.”

After eating what dried food they were able to spare, the companions dropped off to sleep one by one. Renya stayed awake, watching the doorflap of the tent, listening to Leliana’s light chatter about Andraste’s rise and fall. It was actually very interesting, and Leliana, as always, was a fantastic storyteller, but as the night wore on, she too bid the elf goodnight and went back to her bedroll.

Around midnight, a rustling caught Renya’s ear, waking her. It was coming from the tent, and she tried to figure out what it was.

“Non…” murmured a voice. “No, please…” It was Leliana. Renya froze where she sat. She remembered the last time she had heard Leliana mumble in her sleep like this.

“Non…NON…no, please I’ll do anything you ask….” Leliana’s voice was strained now, and Renya crawled over to her. Nyviel was already there, her blue eyes glinting down at Leliana in the dark, worried.

“She won’t wake up,” the young elf whispered. Her hand was on Leliana’s shoulder, but the bard took no notice.

Leliana cried out softly, twisting where she lay.

“Do something,” Nyviel hissed at Renya. Renya looked at the sleeping woman helplessly.

“Leliana,” she said gently. “Leliana, wake up. It is alright…”

But Leliana only thrashed again, her face twisted as if in pain. Renya reached out and stroked her forehead. “Leliana,” she murmured, leaning down to her ear. “Leliana, you are just dreaming. Come back to me…”

“Renya?”

The elf smiled in relief. “Yes. Yes, Leliana, it is me, it is…” But the woman’s face filled with horror again.

“No, not her, please! Leave her alone…” Leliana mumbled as she twisted her head awkwardly. “Do it to me, hurt me instead…”

“Nyviel, get some water,” Renya said to the other elf, who nodded and went away to fetch a water skin. She turned her attention back to Leliana and grabbed her hand, still stroking her hair.

“Leliana,” she said. “Emm’andaran. I am here. Remember what I said? You are safe. Please, Leliana… wake up…”

Leliana’s hand clutched Renya’s and her other shot out, groping for something. Renya grabbed it, too, and pressed it against her face, rubbing her cheek against it. “It is alright. It is just a dream…”

Finally the bard seemed to calm, and fell back into a peaceful sleep. Wynne, hearing the noise, came over to investigate.

“Is she alright?”

“Just a nightmare,” Renya said, placing Leliana’s hand back down on her stomach. She continued to grip the other one. “…just a nightmare.”

“Do you remember our conversation earlier, Warden?”

“Yes, and my opinion has not changed.”

“I see. I hope your friendships are not more important to you than your duty,” Wynne began.

Renya cut her off. “I killed an innocent child because my duty called for it,” she hissed. “What do you think?”

Nyviel returned with the water-skin.

“As you say,” the mage replied wearily. “Goodnight, Warden,” she added politely, glancing at Nyviel.

“Hm.”

“Is everything…” Nyviel sighed. “Is Leliana okay?”

The Warden looked back down at the sleeping woman and nodded. “She is sleeping peacefully again. That is something, at least.”

“It is. Well, if the danger has passed, I will be right over there if you need anything,” Nyviel said, nodding toward her bedroll.

“Serannas, Nyviel.”

The younger elf maneuvered through the tent and lay down, turning away from Renya and Leliana. Renya looked over Leliana once more before sitting next to the sleeping bard and taking Morrigan’s watch, smiling when she heard the apostate snoring a little.

It was some time later when Leliana woke up, feeling sore. She’d had a terrible dream – Renya had been captured and was tied up in a dungeon, and Leliana knew it was all her fault. Somewhere in her tortured screaming she had given up the elf’s name. She had then been forced to watch as the torturer cut into Renya’s ears and carved into her chest, trying to tear out her heart. Renya had watched them claw at her with pain etched into her features, but otherwise made no protest. In fact, she always nodded when the masked men would brandish another knife at her.

_“We could do it to her. If you’ve had enough,” the man said with a head-jerk at Leliana, crouched and cowering in the corner._

_Leliana stood up. “No! Not her, please! Leave her alone!”_

_Renya stared at the man placidly as he grabbed her ear again and made a quick slice._

_Leliana tried to lunge at the pair, but she wasn’t able to move. “Do it to me! Hurt me instead!”_

_“You or her, knife-ear?” the man hissed, holding the blade close to her already-bleeding chest._

_Renya nodded. “Me.”_

When she opened her eyes she found a familiar silhouette sitting next to her, awake and watchful. A hand was in hers. Smiling, she dozed off again. When she awoke a little while later the silhouette was still there, green eyes still glinting in the dark. Leliana closed her eyes again, feeling peaceful.

“Leliana, wake up,” a familiar voice whispered to her what seemed like moments later. “You need to see something. Wake up,” insisted the voice, its accent making the bard smile. She stretched and her hand brushed against something soft. Opening her eyes, she saw that the voice belonged to Renya and the soft thing had been her hair. Leliana sprung awake, but Renya smiled. She reached out her hand impatiently.

“Come on, we are going to miss it.”

The elf practically dragged her outside. Overnight, it had stopped raining, and as the sun came up a beautiful rainbow arched across the sky, framing the sunrise. Leliana crossed her arms and shivered in the cold morning air, but the temperature couldn’t dampen her mood as she grinned at the sky. The wind blew a little, and Renya adjusted how she was standing slightly, trying to block the wind from hitting Leliana’s back. Tentatively, she laid her hands on the bard’s shoulders. Leliana shivered at the warm touch and leaned back into her with a smile.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, glancing at Renya out of the side of her eye. The elf looked radiant in the early-morning sun. They watched the sunrise together, both silent.

“My mother loved the sunrise,” Leliana commented quietly a little while later. Renya smiled, her eyes crinkling. “I don’t have many memories of her, but she always loved the early morning hours, when the world was still quiet. She would wake before the rest of Lady Cecile’s whole household, just to go outside and watch the sun come up. She would take me with her, but of course a small child is an unwilling participant in such early-morning routines,” she said with a smile. She continued, staring happily at the colors in the sky.

“But in any case, my mother would scoop me up in her arms and point to the sun, saying, ‘Do you see, Leli? The sun has come back; everything always starts anew, the darkness does not remain forever.’ I even remember what she smelled like,” Leliana added softly. “She used to put a white flower that she called ‘Andraste’s grace’ in with her clothes. The flowers do not grow in Orlais, I do not know where she got them from, but she managed to find them. I think they reminded her of Ferelden, where she was born. And the smell…” She sighed happily at the memory. “Do you have any memories of your parents?”

Renya, who had been watching Leliana with a smile as she told her story, suddenly looked blank. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “My father was killed far from the clan, and my mother left me months after I was born. Asha’bellanar…” she hesitated. “A friend to the elves… gave me my father’s amulet.”

She pulled it out and Leliana turned to look at it. Her face softened as she saw how gently Renya was holding the stone.

“That’s very beautiful…”

Renya cleared her throat. “Serannas. But their best friend raised me…”

“…and she gave you her son’s hunting knife, I remember you telling me,” Leliana said softly. Renya nodded.

“But the clan is my family, and now this clan is my family, too,” Renya said, changing the subject. “I have been lucky.”

“Thank the Maker that blasted rain is over,” Alistair’s voice came from the tent. “Let’s get an early start. I’m anxious to get to Denerim!”

“Very lucky.” Renya laughed and turned, catching Alistair as he exited the tent in his tunic and stretched. “Then let’s breakfast quickly, lethallin. I have been up for ages already!”

“What? How? You were awake past me…”

“The Warden, apparently, keeps her own watch schedule,” Wynne said, emerging as well. “Although she should remember that she is not to make these decisions on her own.”

“Is everyone in the Circle like this?” Renya commented to Nyviel, who had followed Wynne out. Nyviel nodded behind Wynne’s back, rolling her eyes. She was glad she had come with the Wardens, they treated her much better than the templar or even some of the senior mages ever did. She felt like she was part of the group, not always just following directions.

“If the Warden wishes to stay up all night, then I shall not complain,” floated Morrigan’s voice from inside. “I, for one, appreciated the good night’s rest.”

Sten exited the tent and waited for Morrigan to come out, as well, before he began taking them down. After a hurried breakfast, they packed their belongings into Bodahn’s cart and moved out.

“Look, there’s the very peak of the castle. We should be there in a day or so,” Alistair commented happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw... So much happiness, yet so much story to go...  
> At least Leliana realizes she was kind of a jerk before. And what about those nightmares?
> 
> I'd also like to say that I just re-read the description of Renya out in the rain, and it must have been raining for some time for water to be dripping off her ears.
> 
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	45. The Elf and the Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An elf's word is an oath. But not all oaths can be kept.

“Help! Help!” A very distressed woman ran up to them as the sun was reaching the middle of the sky. “There are bandits! My children… Please help!!”

Glancing at each other, Alistair and Renya jogged off after the woman, the other members following them. They reached a wagon, where a number of humans were standing stiffly. Everything looked calm, and Renya’s eyes narrowed, wary. The woman slowed to a walk and ambled carelessly over to the wagon. A male elf jumped out and sauntered over toward them.

“Hello,” he said, his accent strange to Renya’s ears. “I… oh. You are an elf.” His bright brown eyes blinked at her. “That changes things.”

Renya glanced around at the humans standing around them. They did not look very pleasant. “Oh?”

The male elf was staring at her, calculating. “Yes.” He sighed. “I am Zevran Araini, an assassin of the Antivan Crows. I was hired by an associate of Teryn Loghain to kill the remaining two Grey Wardens in Ferelden.”

“You certainly talk easily for an assassin,” Leliana commented. Zevran chuckled.

“He did not pay me for my silence. Nor do I sell it, usually,” he said. “But,” he continued, looking back at Renya. “He did not mention you were an elf. That, as I said, changes things.”

“How so?”

Zevran looked surprised. “You must be aware of the tradition, being Dalish…”

“Yes,” Renya said jerkily. “An elf does not harm another elf they meet on the road. I was not aware this was taught to city elves… or hired assassins.”

“I do not have much, but I have the traditions my mother taught me before she died,” Zevran said.

“You are Dalish?”

“My mother,” he said sadly. “I am Antivan. But I am still an elf. Now, listen,” he said. “I have a proposition for you. I do not wish to massacre you; you see you are vastly outnumbered.”

Renya nodded, eyeing the humans again.

“So, in the spirit of fairness, I challenge you to a duel. You and me. Winner goes free, loser… is at the mercy of the winner, obviously. What do you say?”

“Renya, I don’t think this is a good idea…” Alistair began.

“I agree to this.”

“ _What?_ ”

Renya inwardly smiled at the chorus of voices that came from behind her. She turned and handed her bow to Leliana.

“I will not need this for a duel. Please hold it for me,” she said.

Leliana took the bow, looking at Renya with wide eyes. “Renya, be careful,” she whispered, putting her hand on Renya’s arm protectively. “I don’t like this man at all.”

“Warden.” Sten stepped forward. “If you are going to fight this elf, I suggest that you watch him for a time. I fear he will not fight cleanly.”

“It will be fine,” Renya said. Everyone stepped back to give the two duelists room, and Renya pulled out her blades with a flourish. She smiled when she heard the soft hum that came from Leliana.

“Dual-blades it is, then,” Zevran said conversationally. They began to circle each other.

Leliana clutched the bow in her hands tightly. There was nothing about this that she liked. She glanced around at her traveling companions. Alistair’s jaw was set and he watched the two elves move, hardly blinking, and Nyviel stood with her hands balled into fists. Wynne was shaking her head resignedly, no doubt wondering how badly Renya would need to be patched up after this. Sten was watching the two with interest, his trained eyes narrowed as he studied Zevran’s movements. Morrigan surprised her, though. She was standing so straight a board might have been attached to her back, and she looked nervous as she watched the Warden. Unfortunately Morrigan caught her staring.

“Do not think you are the only one here who cares for the Warden’s well-being,” Morrigan muttered pointedly. Leliana turned her attention back onto the elves.

They were still circling, sizing each other up. Zevran feinted, but Renya didn’t fall for it. She jabbed out her dagger, and he parried it easily.

“Tell me,” he said. “How do you travel with such attractive companions? I would be most distracted all the time.”

“Are they? I had not noticed.” She missed Leliana’s disappointed look.

“No? Then you would not mind, once this is over, if I were to introduce myself to some of the lovely women with you? Perhaps the lovely one with golden eyes, or the nice redheaded beauty? Or perhaps the other beautiful elf in your company…?”

“You speak as if you are going to win this.” Renya fought the urge to stab him where he stood.

“I speak from the heart,” he said, sounding hurt. “I would say I would introduce myself to you, being the most desireable of all, but we have already met.”

Renya warded off an eye-roll. Without warning, Zevran attacked and she parried quickly. Flashes of steel and the clanging of swords filled the air around the two elves as they furiously fought each other. Zevran swung at the Warden, who blocked his attack with both of her swords. They stood locked, staring at each other, until Renya got her footing and shoved him off. He swung at her again, but missed as Renya rolled away from him. Another flurry of blades, and one of Zevran’s daggers went flying. Renya cried out as, in the same motion, Zevran lunged and pierced her shoulder, sending her longsword to the ground.

“Ah, and now, onto the daggers. Do you think those beautiful women will offer me a kiss as a prize? I can be very convincing,” Zevran said, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, yes. Kisses to the winner, I am sure,” Renya said sarcastically. They flew at each other again. Zevran swiped at her neck, and Renya dodged. He attacked her ferociously, and Renya quickly switched her dagger to her right hand, for a moment not remembering her injury. She gasped and tried to switch back to her left hand, but he was too fast. With a yell, he lunged. Renya dropped to the ground, hard, the thump of her body echoing off the trees. She brought her legs up and caught Zevran in the stomach before sending him flying over her head. Scrambling to her feet, she knelt on his back and pulled his head up by his hair, gritting her teeth in pain and holding her dagger to his throat. She leaned in close.

“I win,” she said, panting. Zevran swiveled his eyes around as much as he could and looked at her mildly.

“You win,” he said evenly. “So what will you do with me? If you kill me, you will be rid of me, obviously. If you spare me, I will owe you my life and service.”

Renya considered him. He was a fantastic fighter, and elves did not kill other elves they met on the road… She released him.

“I am indebted to you,” he said, rolling on his back and sitting up. “I can no longer return to the Crows, who would kill me for my failure, so I will swear myself to you and your cause. I give you my word… as an elf.”

“We’re not seriously going to bring him along, are we?” Alistair deadpanned.

“Hey! Who’s going to pay us?” one of the thugs called.

“Perhaps I can begin proving my loyalty to you now…” Zevran muttered as the men attacked.

***

They made camp that night, and Zevran, having had his weapons taken away, offered to prepare the evening meal. Renya felt bad at Alistair’s disappointed look, but Zevran was a fantastic cook. He chatted with Nyviel, telling her stories of Antiva, and even offered to clean up after they were finished. Having lived in a forest her whole life, Renya had to make decisions about creatures and people in split-seconds, and after half a day of walking with the Antivan elf she decided that she trusted him.

Unfortunately, she seemed to be the only one. Nyviel had only gone along with her judgement out of respect for the older elf, and Wynne had merely tutted at her as she fixed Renya’s shoulder.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she had said.

Renya had actively sought out Morrigan’s opinion, and the apostate, as always, had the most practical, if not harshest, opinion on the matter.

“He is proving himself useful,” she had said with a shrug. “If that changes, we will change our opinions toward him.”

“So you do not think I made a bad decision?”

“’Tis not for me to decide these things,” Morrigan said. She looked at Renya curiously. “We are friends, are we not?”

Renya smiled. “Yes, lethallan. We are friends.”

Morrigan nodded, unable to keep a small smile from playing on her lips. “Then, as we are friends I must trust your judgment. Until that time which you decide Zevran must be disposed of, I will tolerate his presence as I tolerate any of our other companions. I will, however, be watching his cooking closely.”

The Warden laughed. “I am not sure what I would do without you, Morrigan.”

“You would be much worse off, ‘tis true.”

Alistair and Leliana, however, had not been nearly as accepting.

“Now we’re traveling with someone who actively tried to kill us. Why don’t we just sign Loghain on to the Grey Wardens, too?” Alistair grumbled at her.

“Do you think he would join?” she asked him seriously.

“No! Absolutely not! I- oh you’re joking. Thank the Maker,” he said when Renya started to laugh.

“But, seriously, Renya. Do you trust him?”

“He gave me his word as an elf. I realize that may not mean anything to humans, but that is… very important among the Elvhen,” Renya said quietly.

“Fine, fine,” Alistair sighed with resignation.

Leliana had expressed her distrust by watching him like a hawk all through the evening meal. She felt better when she felt the small blade tucked in the arm of her armor. As she was sitting next to Renya, she knew that if he tried anything, she would be able to stop him before he was able to do too much damage. And she didn’t try to hide that she deterred Renya from eating long enough to observe Zevran eat the food he had spooned into all their bowls.

“I’ve made you unpopular,” Zevran commented to her after the meal was over and he was cleaning up. Renya sighed. “But I must thank you, doubly because you have spared my life and saved me from a very nasty fate from the Crows.”

“You are an elf, Zevran. I trust your word,” Renya said. “Though I will be the first to strike should you try and hurt my friends.”

“And I would not blame you. I would have you know, though, that it would be a wonderful death, at the hands of a beautiful woman,” he sighed wistfully, winking at her. “Although, perhaps my attentions are misplaced. Perhaps you are interested in another. Or another is interested in you?”

“Perhaps. And perhaps you should keep your opinions to yourself unless I should take your tongue from you, as well.” But she smiled to show she was joking.

“Ah! Renya, you could kill me with your sharp wit,” he said with a laugh. “But why the hesitation? A lovely lady such as yourself could have your pick of… the Dalish call it ‘falon’saota,’ yes?”

“They do. And because…” She hesitated, deciding what to tell him. Elf or not, they had only just met, after all. “I have a duty to the Grey Wardens and Ferelden…” Renya finished quietly.

“Duty, the assassin of fun and feelings,” Zevran said wisely. “But I will respect your wishes. Until you decide this duty toward Ferelden has space for duty to the heart, I will keep my opinions to myself and my tongue happily behind my teeth.” He looked at her and placed a friendly hand on her shoulder. “Goodnight, my lovely Warden.”

“Goodnight, my flirtatious Antivan.”

He snorted a laugh before walking away. Renya walked over to her bedroll and sat down to meditate, closing her eyes and listening to the sound of the wind in the trees. Hearing light footsteps behind her, she opened her eyes again.

“Hello, Leliana.”

The footsteps stopped. “And I was trying so hard to sneak up on you, too,” she said with a laugh. Renya smiled as the redhead sat down next to her.

“Are you alright?” Renya asked, looking at her curiously.

Leliana nodded, twisting her fingers. “Yes. Yes, I am alright. I… something you said earlier…” Renya’s words about not finding anyone in the group attractive had been echoing in her head all day.

“I said a lot of things today. You will have to give me more clues than that…”

“You said that… is it true that…oh Maker,” she mumbled. Renya grabbed Leliana’s tangled fingers gently.

“I have upset you,” she said softly. “What did I do? I am sure I did not mean it.”

“No! You didn’t upset me,” Leliana lied. “It’s just… when you said…” Her breathing was coming faster and faster. Maker, what was wrong with her?

Without warning, she leaned in and kissed Renya on the cheek. A long silence followed, and Leliana lingered close to Renya’s face, breathing in the scent of forest air and pine, as the elf faced forward, not moving. Slowly, Leliana pulled away, looking ashamed. Renya put a tentative hand up and touched the place where Leliana had kissed her, and turned to look at the bard with her mouth slightly open and her eyebrows knit together.

“Kisses for the winner,” Leliana said in a mortified whisper. “That was what you said.”

Renya nodded dumbly, her brain completely devoid of all thoughts that didn’t have to do with the feeling of Leliana’s lips on her skin. Still looking horrified, Leliana rose and returned to her tent. It wasn’t until she was gone that Renya realized she should have said something. She sat thinking about what to do for a long time. Eventually she got up and went to the bard’s tent.

“Leliana?” she called softly. She thought she heard someone stir inside. “Leliana?” she called again, a little more loudly, but still softly enough to not wake the camp or alert Morrigan, who was on watch. The tent was still. Sighing, Renya sat down outside the flap.

“Yes, that is what I said,” she murmured, touching her cheek sadly.

***

_Lightning split the sky and thunder shook through the camp. Alone in one of the aravels, Merrill shivered. The clan usually all huddled in the landships during storms, but Merrill had found that she was left by herself more and more. And she hated thunderstorms. It was ridiculous, really, she thought to herself. She’d had her vallaslin for three years. She should be able to handle a little rain by herself._

_Another flash of lightning, and Merrill shook her head, taking a deep breath. Unfortunately, someone opened her door as the thunder crashed, and she jumped with a scream. The elf at the door came in and quickly shut the storm out, muffling the sound a little._

_“Creators, Merrill. I’m sorry.” It was Renya._

_Merrill smiled and threw her arms around her. “Thank Mythal you’re here. I thought I was going to be left all alone!” She pulled away slightly. “You’re soaking wet.”_

_“Well, I’m not sure anyone told you, but there’s a thunderstorm going on outside,” Renya said conversationally. Merrill laughed._

_“Oh, you poor da’len. We’ll have to get you out of those clothes… I mean…”_

_Renya pulled her close, making Merrill squeak as she was pressed against the wet leather again. “I’m not sure I’m sufficiently ready for that,” she said in a low tone, nuzzling her. Merrill smacked her arm._

_“Oh, you.” But she didn’t sound too angry. Thunder cracked overhead again, and Merrill shuddered. “I’m glad you’re here.”_

_“Me, too.” Renya settled herself onto one of the cushions on the floor and guided Merrill next to her. “We could… we could read to pass the time….”_

_Merrill smiled. “You mean I could read to you,” she said playfully._

_“Well, since you offered,” Renya replied with a shrug and a teasing glance. “What? I like listening to you read.”_

_“I know. Just a minute.” She raised her hand in front of Renya, and the other elf suddenly felt very warm. Merrill smiled and lowered her hand as Renya looked down and felt her armor. It was completely dry._

_“There,” Merrill said as she rose and lit a few more candles. “Much better.” She pulled over a large book she had borrowed from the hahren and sat next to Renya. “It’s a book about Arlathan,” she said apologetically._

_“That’s alright,” Renya said. “I’d like to hear it.”_

_Merrill laughed. “You’re the only one here who I’ve ever heard say that.”_

_“I knew there was a reason you keep me around.”_

_Merrill blushed a little. “Right. I… it’s just… you…"_

_“You could read me a list of herbs and I’d be happy,” Renya cut in with a little grin, saving the first from having to say anything else._

_Merrill smiled and snuggled into her, propping the book open on their laps. She began to read the Dalish words and Renya closed her eyes, contentedly aware of Merrill’s warmth next to her. After a while, her fingers began dragging up and down Merrill’s arm; her other hand found its way onto her leg. Merrill pressed into her a little more firmly. It felt like her breathing was increasing._

_“And then Renya started distracting Merrill until Merrill couldn’t concentrate on the reading anymore,” Merrill said, beginning to sound breathless._

_Renya opened her eyes. “Oh no,” she said amiably. “What did Merrill do then?”_

_“She… I think she… I mean…” She twisted so she was on her knees and kissed Renya, dragging her fingers along the hunter’s arms._

_“Elo…” Renya murmured with a smile. “That sounds like a terrible fate. What happened next?”_

_“You know, I’m… I’m not sure…” Merrill said shyly, unconsciously playing with Renya’s belt._

_“Well, tell me about this Renya character, then,” Renya said playfully. “Did she continue to kiss Merrill?”_

_“Yes…” Merrill closed her eyes as Renya leaned in and began kissing her way up her neck._

_“Did she hold Merrill in her arms?”_

_“Oh… oh, yes. All night, I think…”_

_“What else did she do?”_

_Merrill tugged on Renya’s belt and the other elf followed her across the little room. She lay down on her bedroll and pulled Renya on top of her. “She… she lay with her,” Merrill murmured, smiling as Renya propped herself up above her. “And… and Merrill and Renya… performed their lav’hasal.”_

_Renya looked at her seriously. “Are you sure? I am a hunter…”_

_But Merrill pulled her close. “I know. But I want this,” she whispered into her ear. “I’ve wanted it for a long time.” She stroked the ear gently and smiled at the little shudder and hum that she received in response._

_“You’re so strong…” she murmured, rubbing her hands down Renya’s arms. Renya simply chuckled and kissed her, gently stroking a stray piece of black hair from Merrill’s face. Merrill nodded with a small smile._

_“Alright,” she said now with a hint of humor. “I suppose I’ll keep you, then.” Renya laughed._

_“Mir enansal,” she replied, rubbing their cheeks together and gently stroking Merrill’s hair._

_“Ar’lath, ma’vhenan…” Merrill murmured as Renya began to slowly unfasten the ties on her robes._

Renya woke with a start, still sitting outside Leliana’s tent. It was almost morning. She sighed, shaking her head at the memories crashing around in her brain. It wasn’t fair. Without a sound, she rose and walked back to her bedroll to start her morning meditation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOoOOoOoOoo....
> 
> A few notes, since we're back to Dalish: "Elo" is just an exclamation of surprise I borrowed from the Tolkien universe. "Lav'hasal" refers to a part of the Dalish bonding rituals, but we'll learn more about that later.  
> "Mir enansal" means "my blessing," and I'm using "ar'lath, ma'vhenan" to mean I love you, even though it literally means "I love, my love/my heart."
> 
> Elves keep their word, huh? Well that doesn't bode well for any romantic pursuits...
> 
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	46. To Denerim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some companion interactions, then off to Denerim!

“No, pull back using your whole body, like this,” Renya said, taking her bow back from Nyviel and showing her. She handed it back to the mage, who tried again. “Right, now aim. Both eyes open… and…”

Nyviel released the arrow and it whistled through the air. It missed the make-shift target Renya had set up.

“Nevermind,” Nyviel said with a shake of her head. “I’ll stick with a mage’s staff…” Renya laughed and went to retrieve the arrow.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully when she had returned. “There were elven mages who used to weild swords, as well. Dirth’ena enasalin, they were called.” She paused. “Arcane warrior in the common tongue.” She smiled when she saw Nyviel’s eyes light up.

“Really? Could you teach me?”

Renya shook her head. “Unfortunately, that art has been lost. And at any rate, I am not a mage. I could teach you to use a sword, but not channel magic through it.”

“Oh.” Nyviel looked disappointed. “Well, let me try one more time with the bow, then.”

“Ma nuvenin.” Renya handed over the arrow and Nyviel took aim again. “Now don’t be too hard on yourself. Hunters have a year of apprenticeship before they can…”

Nyviel let the arrow fly and it landed with a small thump in the middle of the target. She grinned at Renya and handed the bow back. Renya closed her mouth and took the bow silently, staring at the arrow.

“I did it!” Nyviel said happily. She gave Renya a little side-hug. “Thanks for the lesson, Renya!” And she walked away, humming happily and leaving Renya standing like a statue, shaking her head at the target. Renya looked down at the bow in her hands.

“Melana en athim las enaste. Let my humility grant favor… It took me months to do that…”

She pulled the arrow from the target and set herself up to practice, muttering to herself. Leliana, who had been watching the two elves from the other side of camp, now came over. She watched Renya fire arrow after arrow; most of them were clumped in the middle of the target, although a few missed the mark.

“That is quite remarkable,” Leliana began.

“No, it is not,” Renya grumbled. She sighed. “Telgaras solasan…” she murmured to herself. She fired another arrow, and it landed in the little cluster in the middle. “Hm. Better.” Leliana arched an eyebrow.

“Why were you showing Nyviel how to use a bow?” Leliana asked a few arrows later, the beginnings of jealousy creeping into her heart again.

“She asked.” Another arrow. Renya grunted as it hit the target a few inches from the center.

“Would you show me?”

“If you wanted.” Renya took aim, and then relaxed the bow string to look at Leliana curiously. “Wait. I do not need to show you. You know how to use a bow and arrow.”

Leliana paused, hating how upset she was feeling. “Not like an elf,” she said a little defensively. Renya sighed.

“Leliana, I cannot even use a bow like an elf.”

“I… I still feel out of practice. Any tips you would have…?” Leliana’s heart was hammering as Renya looked at her. The elf shrugged and handed the bow over, and Leliana felt a little thrill, remembering how Renya had positioned herself behind Nyviel to help her with her grip and form. Once Renya had retrieved the arrows and given them to Leliana, she stepped back and looked at her with interest.

Leliana blinked. “Yes?”

Renya smiled with amusement. “You said you are out of practice. You can practice if you wish.”

Leliana’s heart sank a little.

“Oh…I…Hm…” Leliana took aim and fired, satisfied and disappointed when the arrow hit the bulls-eye. Renya nodded, her face impassive.

“Well done,” she said evenly, nodding at her. “I do not think I can show you anything you do not already know. Enjoy your practice.” She started to walk away.

“Wait!” Leliana said desperately. Renya turned. “Don’t you want… Will you… I just…” She sighed. “Will you watch, just in case?”

Renya arched an eyebrow, but shrugged and nodded, sitting on the ground. Nyviel wandered back over.

“You’re an archer! That’s right!” she said excitedly, seeing Leliana holding the bow. “Are you going to practice? Can I watch?”

“I… I suppose so…” Leliana said, not sure how to tell Nyviel to leave without sounding impolite.

“Great!” Nyviel settled herself next to Renya and handed her an apple. The Warden took it with a word of thanks and began eating it contentedly.

Leliana fired an arrow, thinking dark thoughts as it hit the bulls-eye and Nyviel clapped.

***

They reached Denerim a few days later. Alistair was happily chatting to Renya about his sister when they reached the city’s gates.

“Here we are, Denerim. Capital of Ferelden!” he said grandly as they entered.

Renya slowed her pace when they entered the city square. She had never been in a city before; it was enormous. All the buildings were pressed against each other, and there were so many humans. In the center was a large tent with merchants, all calling out toward their prospective customers. She only saw one small tree in a far corner of the market, and the top of a very large tree behind a heavy stone wall.

People jostled them as they entered the market, and merchants called out to them, trying to tempt them with their wares. The noise was more intense than anything she had experienced, and more than once she almost tripped because she was too busy staring to notice where her feet were going.

She was overwhelmed.

“…’tis… large, yes?” Morrigan commented, likewise staring around the market square. “I admit I am… a little overcome by… all this.” She waved her hand to take in the buildings, the market, and the crowds of humans wandering through the city. Renya silently agreed.

“Just as I remember it,” Leliana murmured to herself, walking behind Renya. Zevran sidled up next to the Warden.

“So, we are here!” he said jovially. “On official Warden business, I assume? Where are we going? How can I help?”

“First we have some personal business to attend to, and then we will be seeking out a Brother of the Chantry for some information,” Renya said vaguely, looking around the city center in amazement.

“And shopping,” piped Nyviel. “Don’t forget shopping!” She chuckled. “Is that merchant called ‘Imports of Import’? Does he think he’s clever?” She nudged Leliana, who smiled slightly, looking introspective.

“Oh, the Wonders of Thedas!” Wynne said happily. “It’s been years since I’ve been in there!”

“There’s Goldanna’s house,” Alistair said before Renya could respond. She got the feeling he hadn’t really been paying attention to the conversation. He turned to Renya nervously. “Will you… go with me?”

“Of course, lethallin,” Renya said, giving herself a little shake. She nodded toward the rest of their companions. “We can meet again at…?”

“When the clock chimes, maybe in front of the Chantry building? We can definitely do some damage at the shops in half an hour,” Nyviel said.

Renya blinked. “Half a what?”

But Nyviel didn’t seem to hear her. “Come on!” she said excitedly, tugging on Leliana and Morrigan’s arms. Wynne didn’t need any further encouragement. Leliana smiled stiffly and followed. Morrigan looked at Renya with an annoyed expression, but at Renya’s shrug she huffed and followed the other three.

Sten grabbed Renya’s shoulder. “Warden, there is a dwarf over there,” he said, nodding toward the man at the other end of the square. “I wish to see if he can repair this blade or trade for a new one, as this one is inferior to… what I am used to.”

“Here, Sten,” Renya said, reaching into her purse and pulling out some coin. “Whatever you need to do, this should more than pay for it. Are you sure you don’t want your own purse?”

“It is not proper for a Sten of the Beresaad to carry money into battle,” he replied. “Thank you. I will meet you again at the appointed time.” And he walked off.

“You are coming with us,” Renya said to Zevran, who looked up and smiled. Elgar seemed to have taken to their newest companion, and wagged his tail.

“Anything to help the beautiful Warden,” Zevran said chivalrously. Renya rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Here it is,” Alistair said, stopping in front of a little hut. “I’m sure of it.” He took a deep breath. “My sister lives here. Funny, that word feels so strange to say, but it’s nice. Sisster. Siisterr…” His grin faltered. “What if she doesn’t like me? It’s been, Maker, so long. What if…?”

“It will be fine, lethallin,” Renya said. “She is your family. Family is important.” She ignored the unpleasant tightness in her stomach when she thought of her family – her clan.

They entered the small house, and a woman approached them. “Just leave the washing there. Two silver for a load, four if you want it-”

“Goldanna?” Alistair asked, smiling.

“Yes. Who are you?” she asked warily.

“It’s… well, maybe you don’t remember me, but I’m Alistair. I’m… your brother.” He stood up a little straighter and smiled.

Goldanna’s face turned ugly. “You! Where have you been? It’s your fault Mother is gone, you know. And little Alistair… they said the babe had died.”

“What? I… Well… no. The babe didn’t die…” he mumbled.

“Look at you, a soldier. For some high-born arsehole, no doubt?” she said, eyeing the griffin. “How wonderful for you. And what have you ever done for me? Nothing. Forgotten about. Husband gone, children to feed, and all I can do is the bloody washing for Denerim’s nobles…”

“I… I’m sorry,” Alistair said, looking perplexed. “I had no idea…”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” she ranted. “I have four children. Four, all to support by myself…”

“Goldanna, I… I want to help you. Please, let me help. We’re family…” Alistair said, glancing at Renya.

Goldanna followed his glance and sneered. “Found yourself a pretty elf to hang on your arm, did you? Pah!” She spat at Renya, who clenched her jaw and slowly wiped the spit off her face.

“Please! Goldanna!” Alistair pleaded, raising his hands in front of him. Renya folded her arms and watched her fellow Warden try to calm his sister. “I want to help. I… when this Blight is over, I will help you. Somehow, I’ll help you.”

“Lot of good that will do me, your word, yeah?”

Alistair looked at Renya, who shrugged and then nodded curtly, still looking annoyed. “Please, take this,” he said, offering her a few silver pieces. “Get yourself and the children something good to eat. I will help you, Goldanna. We’re still family.”

“Great. I’ll believe it when I see it. Now get out.”

“But-”

“ _Get out!_ ”

“Well that didn’t go nearly as well as I wanted it to,” Alistair said sadly when they had left the building.

“I cannot believe that woman is the sister of this charming Warden,” Zevran said politely. “I fail to see the resemblance.”

“Some people are just in it for themselves, Alistair,” Renya said grimly, gripping his shoulder. “You should stand up for yourself more, though, you know?”

“I just… I wanted a family so badly…”

“You have a family, lethallin. You are not the only one who feels alone.”

Alistair sighed. “You’re right. Maker, you’re always right. I’ll have to think about this some more. Thank you,” he added. “For coming with me.”

“Sathem. You are welcome.”

“We have some time before we are to meet the others,” Zevran commented. “Is there anything else we must do?”

Renya’s stomach growled, and Alistair’s echoed the noise. “Perhaps we can get something to eat?”

Alistair smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

***

“What do you think?” Nyviel asked, holding up a simple robe of blue and lilac. They were in the Wonders of Thedas shop, and for the past twenty minutes Leliana and Nyviel had been getting carried away looking at the clothing.

“Offers you a guaranteed increase in spell-power,” the shopkeeper offered helpfully. “And you’ll be more resistant to the cold, too.”

Leliana looked up from the skirt and blouse she was studying. “It’s nice,” she said simply.

“Renya said we’ll be going to see the Dalish at some point. Do you think this robe is a little more elf-y than what I have?”

“Asked the mage in Tower-issued robes,” grumbled Morrigan.

Leliana shrugged, looking uninterested. “Did Renya tell you to change how you dress?”

Nyviel shook her head. “Well, no. I just… I thought I’d surprise her. I want to learn more about my culture… my heritage,” she sad sadly.

“I’m not sure whether that will make you look Dalish or not,” Leliana said with the same bored tone. “Though I am sure your bare forehead is more telling of your origins than your clothing.”

The young elf frowned. She had liked Leliana from the time they had met, and had looked forward to making a new friend. Now she couldn’t figure out why the woman was acting so coldly toward her.

“’Tis interesting that this shop is called the Wonders of Thedas,” Morrigan mused to nobody in particular. “I am curious as to what they consider… is that a Chasind fertility carving?”

Nyviel smiled at the apostate’s sudden change in demeanor. With Morrigan busy, Nyviel turned back to Leliana.

“Well, at any rate, I would like something else to wear.” She looked at the redhead carefully before scanning the room. With a smile, she walked over and pulled out a red skirt and golden top. “Leliana, this is perfect for you, look.”

Leliana came over and nodded at the clothing approvingly. “That is very nice,” she admitted. Nyviel grinned.

“You should get it. You would look ravishing in this. It would show off up here, it’s tailored, look.” She held the shirt up to Leliana. “And fall like that here. Yes, lovely,” Nyviel said with a smile, now holding the skirt up to her, too. “I’ll tell you what,” the elf said suddenly. “I’ll buy these for you with some of the money I have from the Tower. You find a nice pair of shoes to go with it.”

The bard looked at Nyviel, calculating. Nyviel, for her part, pretended to not notice; she was determined. “I love shoes, don’t you? I hate having to wear these clunky things when we travel…”

Leliana nodded, finally cracking a smile. “I know. The shoes here are terrible. One thing I miss from Orlais is the shoes; the ridiculous fashions were worth it, if only for the shoes…” she said wistfully.

The elf smiled. “That sounds so nice. Hopefully there is something here that will go with this,” she said, raising the clothes in her arms to indicate them. “Here, I’ll pay for this, and then come back and see what you’ve found.”

The bard watched as the younger elf walk away, humming to herself. She sighed. Nyviel was a nice young woman, she thought. And why shouldn’t Renya prefer someone of her own race? Leliana reflected on her own behavior toward the Warden recently. It had been erratic at best, and embarrassing at worst. She sighed when she remembered kissing the Warden’s cheek. Once her lips had connected with the elf, she hadn’t wanted to stop. Renya’s expression had been difficult to read, but not that difficult. If she had wanted more, she would have said something, no?

Leliana sighed again, turning back to the wall and aimlessly sifting through the clothes hanging there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made it to Denerim!  
> I enjoyed the bow and arrow bit quite a lot, actually. And yes, Nyviel commented on "Imports of Import" to Leliana. Yes, I did that on purpose ;) The author thinks she's clever.
> 
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	47. The Scholar and the Statue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group searches for answers from Brother Genetivi with some unexpected results. They also pick up another friend along the way!

Dutifully, they all met again at the appointed time outside the Chantry. Leliana was surprised to find Renya listening to an elderly lay sister speak part of the Chant of Light outside of the Chantry. And Maker, was she smiling?

“All men are the work of the Maker’s hands,” the older woman was saying now. “From the lowest slaves to the highest kings. Those who bring ham without provocation to the least of His children are hated and accursed by the Maker.”

“Bring _harm_ , Sister, not ham,” said the sister standing next to her. “And the Maker doesn’t _bread_ sinners…”

“Hello, dear,” the woman said, staring at the group in front of her. “Can we help you?”

The other sister sighed and turned to the guests who had been standing listening. “I’m sorry, she means to say, in Andraste’s name, be welcome.”

“Andaran atish’an,” Renya said, still smiling. “I think I like her version of the Chant better.”

“Me, too,” Alistair added with a chuckle. “Why didn’t they teach us that one during my templar training?”

“What I don’t understand,” the older sister said now. “Is why they do not use the old songs as they once did? It is the _Chant_ of Light, not the _Speech_ of Light.”

The other woman sighed again. “Is there something you needed? Perhaps rest? You look weary.” Her eyes lingered on the markings on Renya’s forehead but she said nothing.

“We are looking for Brother Genetivi’s house,” Renya said. The woman looked interested.

“Indeed? No one has sought Genetivi for some time. What is your business with him?”

“I am interested in learning more about Andraste’s ashes,” the elf replied with a smile.

The sister’s face turned to shock. “A Dalish elf?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why would you be interested in the ashes?”

Alistair was about to reply when Renya cut him off. “My friend,” she said, indicating Leliana who had just walked up behind her, “mentioned that Andraste fought alongside Shartan the elf. I am interested in learning more about this human.” It wasn’t completely untrue. She was interested.

The sister nodded with understanding. “I see. Yes, it is unfortunate that the Book of Shartan is now considered one of the Dissonant Verses of the Chant. It means it is no longer included,” she explained, seeing Renya’s look.

“I did not realize elves were in the Chant of Light… Sister,” Renya said. The sister shook her head.

“They aren’t, but they once were. During the Exalted March against the Dales, excuse me… but during the Exalted March the verses were struck from the Chant. It is too bad, they are full of valor and teachings that align with Andraste’s teachings of the Maker…” She looked at Renya and smiled. “But I cannot say that too loudly. Kindly do not repeat that to anyone.”

“Ma nuvenin. It will be as you say,” Renya replied, returning the smile.

“Genetivi’s house is on the other side of the square,” the sister said now, pointing. “I’m sure he would be interested in speaking with you. He is a great scholar, regardless of what some may think about the truthfulness of the ashes’ existence.

“Ma serannas. Thank you,” Renya replied.

“Maker’s blessings on you.”

They turned and began walking toward the house the sister had indicated.

The older Chantry sister began speaking again. “She shall know the peas of the Maker’s benediction. The Light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next…”

“ _Peace_ , Sister. _Peace_.”

Renya suppressed a chuckle. She turned and noticed the packages in Nyviel’s hands. “Do we have any coin left?” she asked warily.

Nyviel grinned. “We do, don’t worry. Just wait until you see what we bought.”

“I cannot wait,” Renya commented with a little smile.

Leliana felt anger bubbling inside her, until Renya looked at her seriously. “Do we really think that these ashes are real?”

Leliana shrugged, calming herself. “Some say they are real, some do not. They would have had to have lasted for centuries if they do still exist. But we have little choice but to try and find them, for the arl’s sake.” She looked at Renya. “And I… I would love to stand in their presence. I would love to stand before them and feel their power…” She was staring into Renya’s eyes longingly. “It would be overwhelming, and wonderful, to be consumed by the force of their existence.”

“Ma nuvenin, falon,” Renya murmured. Leliana’s heart fluttered. “We will find these ashes if they exist. And you will stand before them, if that is your desire.” She turned away, looking thoughtful, leaving Leliana feeling frustrated again. Leliana shook her head; she needed to get over this. She couldn’t be feeling breathless and disappointed every time Renya so much as glanced at her.

The elf was looking at her again, studying her. Leliana caught her eye and smiled sadly. Renya grinned back and bumped her shoulder with her own.

“Smile,” Renya said. She hesitated, looking undecided but then added, “I miss seeing it.”

Leliana’s face broke into a relaxed grin before she could stop it. Renya nodded; her own smile seemed to have brightened a little. “There it is,” she said softly with a wink. She turned away again and as Alistair knocked on Genetivi’s door.

Breathless… but not so disappointed this time.

***

Weylon, Brother Genetivi’s assistant, was an interesting character, to say the least. He was completely devoted to Brother Genetivi and his research, and was very excited to talk about the little that he knew. However, as the conversation continued, his tone began to change.

“No, that is something that you would have to ask Genetivi when he returns… if he returns,” he answered Alistair, suddenly stiff. “I cannot truly answer any more questions.”

“There is something about this man I do not like,” Leliana whispered in Renya’s ear. The Warden looked at her curiously. “He is too quick to change his emotions: one moment enthusiastic, the next secretive…”

Renya nodded, now looking at Weylon with more wariness than before.

“Well,” she said to the little man, accidentally cutting Alistair off. “We will just take a look around, see if we can find any clues as to where Genetivi may have gone.”

“Of… of course,” Weylon said tentatively. “His bookcase is over there, and some papers are on the table…”

They spread out. Zevran slipped over to a door at the back of the house and surreptitiously tried the handle. It was locked. He changed his posture to look disinterested, but when he caught Renya’s eye he gave her a meaningful nod toward the door. She meandered over, trying not to look suspicious, but Weylon caught her.

“No! You must not go in there!”

“Why not?”

Weylon looked like he was about to choke. “Brother Genetivi is… a… very private person!” he said. “There are only papers and book in there, nothing of interest…”

Renya looked at him seriously. “Papers and books? That is exactly what we are looking for.”

“No!”

“I am afraid I have to insist,” Renya said sternly.

“No! You will not go into that room!” Weylon pulled a flaming poker out of the fire and charged at her.

He never made it. Stopping cold in his tracks, poker raised like a bat, he looked down, murmured something unintelligible, and fell to the floor. Leliana stood behind him, a small, nasty-looking dagger in her hand. She wiped it off and slid it back up her sleeve. Her eyes met Renya’s.

“Remind me to never upset you,” the elf said, shaking her head. Zevran nudged her.

“But what a way to go, looking into the eyes of a gorgeous woman, yes?” He chuckled to himself as he watched Renya hold Leliana’s gaze.

“Yes,” the Warden said simply, giving her a little smile. Leliana’s heart jumped at the teasing look the elf was giving her. But as soon as it appeared, the look was gone and Renya picked the lock.

“Ugh, creators, what is that smell?” Renya said, covering her nose after she had shouldered open the door.

“I think we have found the true Weylon,” Morrigan said, looking at the rotting corpose on the floor with distaste. “Quick, Warden. Find what you need and then let us be off.”

“That poor man,” Leliana commented, carefully stepping around the body. “May you rest at the Maker’s side.”

Renya rooted around some of the papers lying on the floor until Zevran caught her attention again.

“Warden, perhaps inside this chest?” he said. “I no longer have my lock picking tools, otherwise I would not bother you so.”

She nodded and tossed her set over to him. He set to work and had the lock open in moments. Inside the chest were vellum scrolls. Leliana and Alistair walked over and the Antivan handed them a few each. “Perhaps we shall find clues as to Genetivi’s whereabouts from his research. We will return them, of course,” he added matter-of-factly when he saw Renya’s tight expression. “I am not saying we should ruin this man’s livelihood with thievery.”

He passed out scrolls to the rest of the party and they carried them back out to the main room of the house. Sten offered to watch the door in case anyone came to investigate Weylon, and after he stomped off everyone sat down at the table to read.

Renya took a deep breath and unrolled her scroll slowly. Looking around over the tops of her eyes, she saw her companions all studying the vellum intently; some were moving their mouths silently as they read, others traced their fingers along the squiggles on the vellum, and still others showed no sign of activity other than the darting back and forth of their eyes.

She looked down at her own scroll hopelessly. The strange black squiggles seemed to dance before her eyes; she knew a few ancient Elvhen symbols that Merrill had shown her, but this was the common language, and creators, there were a lot of different symbols. She glanced around the table again; everyone was still silently reading. All of a sudden, she felt a sharp pang of homesickness… she did not belong in this world – a world of humans and _secrets_ and _reading_ and…

Leliana was sitting a few chairs away from her, lips pursed in thought, flattening the vellum on the table and scanning the words on the page. As Renya watched, she shook her head and rolled up the scroll again, grabbed another, and unfurled it.

“Is everything alright, Renya?” Wynne called from the other end of the table. Everyone’s eyes swiveled onto her. Renya stared at the vellum in front of her.

“I cannot… I am a Dalish hunter,” she said stiffly, not looking at anyone. “… we are not taught to read.”

Zevran grabbed her arm. “I apologize, my beautiful Warden,” he said. “I did not even think… my mother never mentioned this to me…”

“It is fine…”

“Maybe… maybe you can help Sten… guard the…” Alistair began haltingly.

“Really, Alistair,” Morrigan interrupted. “You would send our leader where she is not needed because she cannot read?”

“I didn’t mean it like that…” Alistair mumbled.

“I mean, she could sharpen some of the swords. Alistair, weren’t you saying that your sword needed some work?” Nyviel offered.

Renya listened to all this, her heart sinking. Even though she knew their words were meant kindly, they did nothing to make her feel better. Once again, the feeling of not belonging overwhelmed her; homesickness swept over her. She was staring at Leliana, the only one who had remained silent and who was watching her quietly.

“Will you help me?” Renya asked softly.

“Of course,” Leliana murmured, rising and grabbing the scrolls she still needed to read. Renya rose and collected her own scrolls, following the bard over to the little bench in front of the fireplace. She sat awkwardly, still not knowing what to do.

“Shall I read out loud to you? Maybe you will pick up on clues that I may be missing,” Leliana suggested, her tone light. Renya nodded, but as soon as Leliana started to read, she put a hand on her wrist to deter her.

“Will you… will you point to the symbols as you say the words? I… I would like to…”

Leliana nodded with a smile. “Let me start at the beginning, then.”

She began reading again, tracing her finger underneath each word as she said it while watching Renya out of the corner of her eye. The elf was staring avidly at the words on the page, frowning a little in her concentration. Leliana moved a little closer until their legs were touching, still reading as if she wasn’t noticing them drift nearer, and smiled when Renya didn’t move away. Leliana finished the scroll and rolled it up. Renya sighed. The bard had never seen the elf look so frustrated.

“It’s okay, Renya,” Leliana said quietly. “It takes years for people to learn how to read.”

Renya nodded, but didn’t look placated. “These keep mentioning white bones holding up the sky… Maybe he is somewhere in the mountains,” she said, trying to change the subject. Leliana nodded, looking thoughtful.

“A mountain range? It would take months to search it all…”

“Is there a way to find out if there is a temple to Andraste anywhere near a mountain?”

“I think I may have found a useful bit of information,” Morrigan called from the table. “He mentions a legend of a temple in the Frostback Mountains near the town of Haven.”

“A legend?” Alistair said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’re going to go trekking into the mountains with winter upon us with nothing but a legend to guide us?”

“We have found little else, and we have gone through much of his research already,” the apostate replied with a scowl. “Perhaps you have a better plan?”

Renya reached across Leliana and pulled another piece of vellum toward her with a sigh. She opened it and tapped Leliana’s leg to get her attention. It was a hand-drawn map of the Frostback Mountains, complete with Haven and a circle where, presumably, Genetivi expected the temple to be. Leliana shrugged and then nodded.

“Well, we have a map drawn by Genetivi,” Renya commented. “We could follow this; we may find him, and then he will be able to help us along our way.”

“So a legend and a handwritten map. Much better,” Alistair said sarcastically.

“You forgot that the map was found by an elf who cannot read. I am only assuming this says Frostback Mountains.” Renya pointed to the writing over some hand-drawn triangles on the page. “This makes the situation much better, yes?” She glanced at Leliana and smirked. Leliana chuckled.

“If we’re going to the mountains, might I suggest we arrange for some… warmer supplies?” Zevran said. “As Alistair handsomely mentioned, the mountain passes are quite cold to begin with, and we are coming up on winter.”

“More shopping,” Renya smiled, looking at Nyviel. The younger elf grinned back. “I think that could be arranged.”

Two shops and five sovereigns later, the group left Denerim loaded down with extra blankets, warmer bedrolls, and a new tent to accommodate the ever-increasing number of travelers. Nyviel had found a nicer pack for Renya to use, one without so many holes and able to hold a few more items, and had smiled when the older elf complimented her sharp eye.

“I think we have everything we need,” Leliana said dryly.

Alistair suggested trying to get a room at the inn, but the man at the counter heatedly told them there were no rooms available, staring at the three elves, his eyes lingering on Renya’s forehead.

“We’re paying customers…” Alistair argued. But the man shook his head, indicating to the full commons area. Obviously he didn’t need their business.

“I run a respectable organization, ser. I may be able to find rooms for you and the young ladies, but your elves and… friend,” he said, glancing at Sten, “will have to stay someplace else. We have some room in the barn with the other rabbits…”

“ _His_ elves?” Nyviel repeated, raising her eyebrows.

“Rabbits? And just like that, I miss Antiva,” Zevran added with a shake of his head, looking incensed.

“We’re not staying here,” Leliana said angrily. “We will find someplace else. Someplace… more accepting.”

“Perhaps the Pearl?” the man said with a leer. “I’m sure they’d find your company enjoyable. Orlesian, are you?” His eyes swept up and down her figure and he licked his lips before turning toward Nyviel. “And you too, miss. Those ears would fetch a pretty price…”

“Is that a threat?” Renya growled, her hand on her knife. She angled herself in front of Leliana and Nyviel, very aware of the guards now watching them.

“Only if you don’t leave,” the man said coolly. “I don’t hold with knife-ears, and I can’t stand when humans defend them. Rabbit-lovers,” he spat.

“Fine, we’re going,” Alistair said with resignation. Leliana grabbed Renya’s arm and shook her head at the elf pleadingly.

“I will not have anyone talking to you like that,” Renya fumed once they were outside. Leliana forced herself to chuckle lightly.

“I’m a trained bard. I’m sure they would find my company enjoyable. Many have, and I have never heard any complaints…”

“I’m sure not,” Zevran said appreciatively. “If you are as deadly as you are beautiful, they were either completely satisfied, or they are now, shall we say, no longer able to speak.”

“Or both,” she said without thinking, before looking for Renya’s reaction. Zevran smiled knowingly. Remembering his promise, he turned back to Leliana.

“Or both,” he agreed. He sighed wistfully. “To die at the hands of a beautiful seductress… There is no better fate, if one must die in such a manner.”

“I am sorry,” Renya interjected. “You are not able to sleep indoors because of the company you keep.”

“’Twould be a fair change, but now we shall be able to continue our journey toward these fabled ashes as winter comes on us,” Morrigan said with a scowl. “So we may freeze to death while searching for the bones of a madwoman.”

“Let’s just leave,” Renya said before anyone could start an argument.

***

“So what is so special about an inn?” Renya asked when they had walked a while. She was met with astonished stares. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Oh, where to begin?” Leliana said happily. “Some inns are lovely, with beautiful colored glass and stone fireplaces right in the rooms…”

“Ooo and I was in one once before I went to the Tower… it even had these big, wonderful tapestries hanging on the walls…” Nyviel piped. Leliana murmured in agreement.

“The lovely staff who will bring food and drink right to your room,” Zevran added wistfully.

“And the bed. The bed must be soft and warm,” Leliana said. Even Morrigan smiled appreciatively.

“Yes, a bed. Mother has one of these; it is much preferable to the ground.”

“Oh, I can’t remember the last time I slept in a real bed,” Alistair moaned. “With sheets and everything…”

“In Orlais,” Leliana commented to him with a smile. “Lady Cecile had this wonderful bed that she had given me. It was stuffed with soft fibers, and the sheets were of the finest cotton. Oh, it was so wonderful; I would look forward to lying in it at the end of the day.”

Renya, who had been listening to this talk with interest, now turned to Leliana, confused. “A bed… This seems different than a bedroll?” She looked around at the chuckles from the rest of the group.

“It is,” Leliana said. “It is like sleeping on a cloud, so warm and fluffy. One day I will have to get you into a bed and… I-I mean, there will be a respectable inn that allows elves and humans to sleep together… I m-mean…” She stopped talking, not looking at anyone, especially Renya.

The Warden laughed. “I have never slept in an inn before, or on a bed,” she commented with a smile. “But it seems like something that I must do before I return to my clan.” Her ears pricked up at a noise and she looked ahead. “What is that?”

***

Renya’s head was throbbing. They had come across a merchant in the middle of the forest who had given them what he claimed was a “control rod” for a stone golem, sending them on a circuitous path that led to a small village. Of course, the golem didn’t activate when they spoke the activation words. After finding the golem’s owner, he had sent them to retrieve his daughter from an underground “workshop.” The result had been awful: the girl had been possessed by a demon, and Renya added another dead human child to her list of regrets about joining the Wardens.

Now the stone golem, Shale, followed the group, making sarcastic remarks toward the travelers and commenting on the dangers of birds. While the golem was entertaining, Renya hoped she hadn’t made a mistake by bringing it along.

“Tell me to do something else,” Shale said, sounding pleased.

The Warden sighed. “Go… jump up and down,” she said wearily.

“No,” the golem answered smugly. “Ah, that feels _so_ good. Tell me to do something else.”

“Please stop talking to me. I have a headache.”

Shale looked at her with unblinking eyes. “Have I upset it?”

“No, _it_ just has a headache. _It_ killed a child and _it_ feels bad,” Renya said through clenched teeth.

“Interesting,” Shale said. “I see that it is an elf, and wonder why it cares so much about humans.” At Renya’s incredulous look, the golem added, “I have watched humans for ages. I know that they do not like elves, and elves do not like humans. Why does it feel regret?”

“She was an innocent child. She had done nothing wrong,” Renya said, depressed.

“It feels for those not like it. Interesting,” the golem said again. “Well, it did say 'please' and I have refused its orders for a long time now. I will do as it asks this one time, but it should not get used to it.”

“It will not,” Renya said flatly. Shale stomped away and started walking next to Sten.

“Ask me to do something.”

“No.”

Renya smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I would just like to say that the word "golem" is pronounced with a long "o" sound, _not_ the way you pronounce Gollum from _Lord of the Rings_. Yes, I am a nerd.
> 
> Also, I'd like to say that I really love the idea of Leliana and Renya reading together. It really accentuates their differences in such a profound way, doesn't it?
> 
> Oh, and of course we had to talk about humans and elves and beds.
> 
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	48. The Canary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The camp is attacked, and part of Leliana's past is pulled into the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's marked at the start of the story, but some implied graphic violent content is below.

“So what is going to keep you from poisoning your target now that you have been allowed to accompany us, I wonder?” Morrigan asked Zevran one evening.

“You are, of course,” Zevran replied with a smile. “You will be watching me ever so closely to make sure I attempt no such thing. You, and our beautiful bard with the sharp blue eyes.”

Morrigan scoffed. “Sneaking into our good graces is order to make another attempt is what I would do, were I you,” she said, ignoring the comment about Leliana.

“You would?” Renya asked. Morrigan looked uncomfortable for a moment, but answered her.

“If I were to be an assassin? I would be intent on completing my job, just as I am loyal to this cause and will see it through to the end…” Morrigan said, glancing at Renya.

“And here I was becoming rather fond of the idea of you watching me closely,” Zevran quipped.

“It would be simple enough to poison our food, or to cut our throats while we slept,” Morrigan pressed.

“You seem rather charmed by the idea.”

“It would seem an appropriate result of sparing your life. Why the Warden has trusted you, I will never be completely sure,” Morrigan said with a shrug.

“Ah. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, then,” Zevran said politely. “The next time I am spared I will be sure to immediately turn upon my benefactors. Will that do?”

“I will be watching,” Morrigan said sternly.

“Tell me if you like what you see,” Zevran replied with a wink.

Wynne sat down next to the Warden and looked at Morrigan seriously. “We must all work together in this matter, dear. We must trust the Warden’s judgement…”

“But what of his spotted past?” Renya said, arching an eyebrow.

The mage shook her head. “He has proven himself useful,” she said simply. “And your judgements have been sound so far; I should follow my own advice and trust what you say.”

“Thank you, Wynne,” Renya said, confused at the mage’s sudden change in demeanor toward the travelers.

“You have amassed quite a following, Renya,” Wynne said with a smile. “A qunari, Circle mages, an Antivan Crow, an apostate, a templar, and a golem.”

“You forgot a bard and a mabari, too,” Renya said, glancing over at where Leliana was sitting with Alistair, talking animatedly while she pet Elgar.

Wynne nodded. “Yes. I must respect what you do. Only those who keenly appreciate our time in this world spend so much of it doing what is important.”

“I have always lived by such a philosophy,” Morrigan commented, her gold eyes glinting.

“How reassuring,” Wynne replied flatly. She turned back to Renya. “You are doing much good here, Renya, and are assuming your duties and wielding your talents well. It is good to see that you can remain so objective.”

“Ma serannas, Wynne,” Renya said with a small smile. “I am a Grey Warden, that is what we do, though, is it not?”

“It is still good to see, and I wanted to remind you of how well you are fulfilling your duties. Not many could leave their homes and thrive as you have.”

Renya nodded, flattered. Perhaps she had misjudged Wynne. “Ma serannas, Wynne. Thank you for your kind words.”

“So, how are we splitting up the watch tonight?” Alistair called across the fire.

“Are we to ever arm the male elf?” Sten replied. “He is a fierce warrior, and it seems fitting that he should stand guard over us.”

“You’re not actually going to trust him with daggers, are you?” Alistair said, looking at Zevran with doubt.

Renya rubbed the vallaslin on her forehead. They had been traveling from Denerim for a week, and Zevran had been polite and helpful, oiling armor, sharpening blades, and even making arrows, besides his usual duty of cooking and clean-up.

“Perhaps he can take watch with someone? Sten, don’t you have first watch tonight?”

“I do, Warden.”

“Will you…?”

“I will do this. The Beresaad can watch a camp and their companions at the same time. It is not unusual for us to be aware of our friends so we can be more aware of our enemies.”

Renya frowned, trying to figure out what that meant, but then shook her head. “Okay, Sten. Great. I will be right back.”

She came back a few minutes later holding Zevran’s belt and blades, retrieved from Bodahn’s cart. “Here, Zevran.”

“My deepest thanks, my lovely Warden. I will not let you down,” he said, strapping his belt back on solemnly.

“Be sure you don’t, my flirtatious Antivan,” Renya replied with a smile.

***

It was late, and Renya was patrolling the camp. Zevran had offered to pass some of the time with her, claiming he was not tired. She had been explaining evune’nira to him, saying that they missed the last one, but hopefully would be somewhere appropriate to celebrate in the coming month. He seemed interested in the lunar celebration and listened with wide eyes.

“Dancing and merrymaking? I think my mother left out the best parts of being Dalish!” he said with a charming smile.

“You will be happy to learn, then, that part of our quest involves recruiting the Dalish as part of the Warden’s army. We will be spending at least a few days in one of their camps,” Renya said. Her heart felt tight with homesickness again. She realized with another jolt that she didn’t even know where her clan had gone. The Free Marches, probably, but she couldn’t be sure. She shook her head; she would not be able to follow them, anyway…

“Is there something wrong, Renya? I would think that would be a happy thought for you,” Zevran said, watching her with concern.

“It is, I just… did you hear that?”

They both listened intently. Something stepped on a branch nearby, and both Renya and Zevran’s ears twitched toward the noise at the same time. With a glance between them, they began to stalk back through the camp, until they heard another crack.

“There!” Renya whispered hoarsely, pointing toward a shadow making its way through camp. Zevran nodded, his glinting brown eyes narrowed as he ran to flank the shadow.

As Renya swiftly approached the shadow from the other side, she saw that it was distinctly humanoid in shape. She called out, loudly, to alert the camp. Her call was answered by a scream. Immediately the entire camp was awake. Seconds later, the camp was lit by a bright beacon, stunning everyone for a moment as their eyes adjusted. Wynne was holding her staff high, a light shining out of its top. Renya’s heart stopped. The camp was surrounded by men and qunari mercenaries and…

“You shall not stop us!” yelled a familiar, horrible, Orlesian accent. Blonde hair blew in the wind as the assassin ripped open Leliana’s tent. Leliana was armed with her fine daggers but not much else. Renya wished she had taken her bow with her on her watch.

The battle was messy. Sten fought the qunari with ease, as if he knew their movements before they did. His sword was like an extension of his own body, and he sliced through qunari and man alike. Alistair, clad in a nightshirt and pants, rapped his sword on his shield and bellowed to attract attention, while Elgar launched himself at the nearest qunari with a ferocious snarl. Zevran was twirling through the mercenaries with speed and grace with Renya by his side, picking off the ones he missed, both of them trying to cut a hole in the attacker’s defenses. Morrigan and Nyviel were standing back to back, chanting and firing what looked like bolts of energy at the advancing men.

“I love when they have little handles,” Shale said, happily grabbing one of the qunari mercenaries by the horns. “They make it so much easier to squish.”

Leliana was fighting the Orlesian woman, her face taught with anger and fear.

“She screamed, you know,” the Orlesian woman said, her blow blocked by Leliana’s dagger. “Such a sweet sound. She didn’t need to suffer though.” She dodged a swipe of the knife. “She just had to tell me where you were.”

The bard’s anger diminished a little as guilt crashed through her. The woman smiled as she saw Leliana’s expression change.

“It was your fault,” the woman capitalized on Leliana’s emotions, slicing at her. Leliana jumped backwards. “You have caused so many problems. And what do you have to show for it?” She chuckled. “Nothing. Marjolaine left you – you are useless to her. I will be her new nightingale, and I will not fail her!” she cried. She brought the hilt of her sword crashing down on Leliana’s wrist, and Leliana gasped and dropped her dagger. She backed away from the woman, her mind racing. Vaguely, she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

“And what of your elf?” the woman said, advancing on her. “Do you want to know exactly what I did to her?”

“She already knows.”

The woman spun on her heels and gasped. An elf who she left to die in the middle of a forest was standing in front of her, very much alive.

“But… you’re supposed to be dead!”

Renya stared at her with fury. “Right. Ir abelas.” She raised her longsword and bashed the pommel into the side of the woman’s head. The human crumpled to the ground. Sounds of the fight faded, and soon the whole camp was silent.

“Are you alright?” Renya still sounded angry as she stared at Leliana. The bard nodded, holding her wrist tightly.

“My… wrist, but it’s okay. I’m fine. I’m fine,” she repeated as Nyviel appeared by her side.

“Here, let me see. I can fix that. Hold still…” the elf said, taking Leliana’s wrist in her hands. She closed her eyes and chanted, and Leliana exhaled in relief. Nyviel let go of her, and Leliana flexed her wrist experimentally. “And how are you?” Nyviel said to Renya. She took a step back when she saw the look on Renya’s face.

Renya was staring down at the unconscious woman with hatred. “I will be back. Do not follow me.” Without another word, she scooped the Orlesian woman into her arms, heaved her over her shoulder, and marched off into the woods.

“Where are you going?”Nyviel called after her. Renya paused.

“To make sure she does not find us again,” she called back. She disappeared into the trees.

***

Renya had been gone for about twenty minutes, and Nyviel was having a harder and harder time keeping Leliana in the camp. She had asked her to help patch up Alistair and Sten, who both needed bandaging, even after Wynne’s healing magic had been applied. Finally everyone was able to sit and relax. Nyviel was trying to come up with more reasons for Leliana to stay, when:

“That woman seemed to recognize the Warden,” Morrigan commented. Her eyes narrowed at the bard. “And you.”

And the questions began.

“I don’t know,” Leliana said again and again. “She must have been sent by Marjolaine, my old bardmaster. But it has been so long,” she said, looking at Alistair helplessly. “I don’t know why she has come after me now.”

“’Tis interesting that you have hidden behind the Maker all this time,” Morrigan said nastily. “’Twould have been kind of you to alert us that someone else is actively trying to kill us. The surprises are bad enough.”

Zevran shook his head. “Two people with one barb, I am impressed,” he grumbled.

“I didn’t know,” Leliana repeated miserably, not hearing him. She felt horrible. The woman had said Renya only needed to give her up to stop her torture. In her mind’s eye she saw the scarred ear and the line down her chin. She remembered the hashmarks on her abdomen. But Renya hadn’t talked, protecting her.

 _Or because she didn’t know who the nightingale is?_ said a treacherous voice in her head. Leliana shook her head. Renya hadn’t known, but the elf wouldn’t have given her up even if she had, right?

“Will any more danger come to us because of you?” Morrigan asked, staring at Leliana harshly.

“No…I don’t know. No, this has to end. I don’t want that life anymore!” the redhead protested.

“It seems that what you want is not of consequence. ‘Tis the sad fact that your past is apparently still your present. You put the Warden in danger; I will not allow you to do that again,” Morrigan said possessively.

Leliana finally had her answer. Morrigan did not trust her, a bard who had lied about her past for her own gain, to be loyal to Renya. While in any other situation she would have seen Morrigan as a kindred spirit, wishing to keep the Warden safe, as it was she simply felt lost and alone.

A scream pierced through the darkness. It sounded… tortured. The group listened intently.

“Is that the Warden?” Sten asked, rising with his hand on his sword.

“No, ‘tis not her voice,” Morrigan replied after listening to the screams a little longer. Sten relaxed, suddenly unconcerned with the cries coming from the forest. Leliana listened for a moment more, feeling her throat becoming tighter and tighter.

“Are you okay?” Nyviel asked, leaning forward and putting her hand on Leliana’s knee.

“I’m fine. I’m going to find her,” Leliana said shortly, standing up so suddenly Nyviel startled backwards.

“Leliana, no. Stay here,” Nyviel said, trying to take her arm. Leliana pulled away from her.

“Interesting,” Morrigan said again. “You hide behind your Maker, and now you hide behind the Warden. She is not your personal champion…”

“I am not hiding. Not anymore. What else do you want from me? I have tried to change my life, I have!” Leliana cried.

“Sit down, dear,” Wynne said gently. Another scream pierced the air.

“No!” Leliana said, shaking her head and backing away. Nyviel rose slowly and reached her hand out.

“Leliana,” she said gently, watching the horror in Leliana’s face grow as the screams continued. “Come and sit by the fire.” The bard continued to back away from her.

“No… no…”

“Leliana! Wait!” Nyviel cried as Leliana turned on her heel and ran into the forest.

 _It couldn’t be. It can’t be. She couldn’t be like her… Please, Maker, she_ can’t _be like her…_

She followed the screams, not noticing and not caring as her clothing tore on tree branches. She came to a small clearing and skidded to a stop.

The blonde Orlesian was tied, hands above her head, with her tunic pulled up over her face. Renya stood behind her, holding something dark in her hands. The night made it hard to see clearly, but she was just able to make out Renya pulling the object across the woman’s back. The woman screamed and Leliana felt sick. How could Renya do this? She wanted to call out, tell her to stop, but she was frozen where she stood. Her nightmare came crashing back.

“Where is she?” Renya asked. “I do not want to say it again, shemlen.”

“Here, in Ferelden. I do not know. Please!” the woman cried. She arched her back as Renya drew the small instrument across it again, causing her to gasp in pain. “Denerim! She has a small home in Denerim! Just west of the market!”

“Why come here?”

The woman didn’t respond. Renya sighed and pressed the object into the woman’s side. “Why come here?” she said again, a little more forcefully.

“I… I was to kill the nightingale. That is all Marjolaine talks about anymore… The nightingale, where has she gone? The nightingale, what is she doing?… But I have never failed her, I have been faithful. She loves me… I was to kill the nightingale and take the traitor’s place in her heart.”

Renya’s face twisted horribly, and she dragged the tool across the woman’s back again. “Does she know where we are?” Again, the woman didn’t respond, moaning. Renya took a sharp breath and pressed the object against her again.

“No!” the woman cried. “No, she doesn’t. I didn’t know where you were going, I happened to see the nightingale leaving Denerim a few days ago and followed,” the wretched woman said.

Silence hung in the little clearing.

“Why my ear?” The question was a growl.

“Because it would hurt…” the woman said desperately. “And… it was to be the last thing the nightingale saw before she died…Please…” She gasped as Renya wrenched the tunic off her face. It fell on her shoulders, keeping her torso exposed.

“You will never be as good as the nightingale,” Renya said venomously. “You sing like a canary.” She swiped a large “X” onto the woman’s stomach, and the woman screamed, looking down at herself.

Her skin was clear. She looked up at Renya in confusion. Renya held up the tool she had been using, and the woman focused on the little black object in her hand. It was a tapered piece of stone, no more harmful than a jagged fingernail. The elf smiled and threw the rock away. The woman stared at Renya in shock for a moment longer before passing out.

Ragged breathing caught Renya’s attention. She turned and saw Leliana crouched on the ground, holding the rock that Renya had discarded, staring at it in disbelief. Renya strode over and knelt next to her. She started to put her arm around the bard but was thrown off.

“Why?” Leliana asked hoarsely.

“We needed…. I needed answers,” Renya said softly. She bowed her head. “But…” She twisted the Keeper’s ring on her finger. “Dalish do not torture. We are not like shemlen,” she added softly.

“But you…?”

“Used my reputation as a murderous Dalish elf and the paranoia of a captured assassin to my advantage,” Renya said, reaching over and gently taking the rock from Leliana’s hand. She tossed it away again. Leliana began to laugh, and then broke down crying. Renya collected her into her arms and rocked her gently, murmuring to her in the common tongue and, when that failed to soothe her, in Dalish. Leliana shifted in her arms, and through the ripped material of her tunic Renya saw long, winding scars tracing down Leliana’s pale skin. The elf held her closer.

“Ir abelas, lethallan. I am so sorry, Leliana,” she murmured, stroking her back. Underneath the tattered material she thought she felt more scars under her fingertips. “I did not mean to hurt you.”

Leliana cried harder, hearing the elf apologize for things that were not her fault. She listened as Renya began to softly sing the Suledin, the song of endurance, the song that prompted their meeting in Lothering.

“…Lath sulevin, lath aravel ena arla vent u vir mahvir; melana’nehn enansalir sa lathalin.”

The bard let herself be comforted by the Dalish syllables and Renya’s lilting voice. She was surrounded by fresh forest air and pine, and it was hard to distinguish where Renya ended and the forest began, but she didn’t care. Her shoulders eventually stopped trembling, but Renya continued to hold her.

“I need to see her,” Leliana mumbled into Renya’s shoulder.

“Hm?”

“I need to see her,” the bard repeated, pulling away enough to be understood but not enough so Renya would release her. “I need to find out why she is here and end this.” She turned her head slightly and looked at the scar on Renya’s ear. The woman had been going to cut it off and use it to torment Leliana before she killed her. How could Marjolaine know feelings that she had not truly admitted to herself?

 _You always liked the chase, Leliana,_ the wretched voice in her head told her now. _And who else have you ever chased as diligently, and as fruitlessly, as this elf?_ No, there was no way for Marjolaine to know that… _Isn’t there? When did you last check over your shoulder? Has she been following you these past two years? Has she seen your jealous looks? How you walk so close to Renya your arms touch? How you smile at her?_

Without thinking, Leliana reached for Renya’s face, stroking the line from her ear to her chin. She stared into the green eyes sparkling down at her in the dark. Renya was looking at her with kindness and worry, and let Leliana rub her fingers over the scar without comment. The soft fingers traveled up her face, and Renya turned her head to let Leliana touch the scar on her ear, shuddering a little and closing her eyes when Leliana first began to stroke the skin there.

“Did it hurt?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Renya opened her eyes. “It does not anymore,” she murmured back.

“Renya, I’m so…”

“I was wondering where you went off to,” Zevran’s voice floated through the trees. Leliana pulled away suddenly, looking embarrassed. The Antivan came over and surveyed the tied up woman with wide eyes, which eventually came to rest on Renya.

“Tell Morrigan that if I ever were to feel inclined to break my word, I would think twice, and not because of any threat she has given me.” He studied the unconscious woman. “There is no mark, but you have…” He shook his head.

“Here, help me get her back to camp,” was all Renya said. She rose and threw another worried look at Leliana, who remained crouched on the ground. Between the two elves, they untied the woman and brought her down.

“And, forgive me, what are you going to do with her?” Zevran asked as he hauled the woman over his shoulder.

“Release her,” Renya said simply. She arched an eyebrow at Zevran’s look. He sighed with a smile.

“I suppose you have another brilliant plan. I look forward to watching it unfold,” he said courteously before walking back to camp.

Renya offered her hand to Leliana. She didn’t move.

“Come on, Leliana, up we go…” Renya said, grabbing the woman’s hands encouragingly. Leliana stumbled to her feet. Renya hesitated, then dusted her off.

“It is good that I have extra clothes. You will need new things to sleep in,” Renya said, surveying Leliana’s tattered shirt. Leliana was vaguely aware of how exposed she was. Renya smiled and took off one of her layers, made of some sort of animal fur, and draped it around Leliana. “Here, at least until we get back to camp and I can find you something a little more suitable for sleeping.” She put her arm around Leliana’s shoulders and guided her back toward the camp.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Renya asked shyly. Leliana shook her head.

“I think I just want to be alone…”

“Ma nuvenin. I will be close by if you need anything.”

“…thank you…”

***

The camp was quiet when they returned. The Orlesian assassin was still unconscious, although Zevran had arranged her clothing for decency’s sake. Renya rooted around in her pack and found a spare set of clothing for Leliana, who took it without comment and went into her tent to change. To Renya’s surprise, she came out again a few minutes later. She walked over toward the group, stroking the fabric absentmindedly. Nyviel was sitting next to Renya by the fire, and Leliana felt a little bubble of anger develop underneath the numbness inside her when she saw the young elf leaning on Renya’s shoulder, looking exhausted. But she accepted Renya’s waved invitation to sit on her other side.

About half an hour later, the woman on the ground began to stir, groaning. Renya rose, her features set, and Leliana watched as she knelt before her, close to her face. When the woman opened her eyes, she yelled in fright. Unfortunately, she regained her composure – and her temper – fairly quickly.

“Are you going to kill me now, elf?” she asked, glancing around. “Or are you too weak to do that properly, either?”

Renya raised an eyebrow. “You make it seem like you would have preferred me to cut your skin off,” she said conversationally, feeling nauseous at the thought. She shook her head. “I am better than you, shem. I do not need to kill you.”

“Don’t you?” the woman spat, much more bravely than she felt. Her hands were still tied and she was in the middle of her enemy’s camp, after all.

“I do not,” Renya said evenly. “I am actually going to let you go.”

The woman blinked. “You are?” Leliana perked up at her words, too.

“Yes, I am going to let you go. Go back to Marjolaine, you beautiful lover…” she purred. Her tone turned icy. “You have failed her twice, I am sure she will not be upset with you. You failed to retrieve her nightingale, failed to kill an elf you had disarmed and tied down, and let all of your secrets out under threat of being stroked by a dull rock.” She smiled, and it sent a shiver down the woman’s spine. The elf’s eyes flashed in the dim light, and, coupled with her tattooed forehead, she looked terrifying. “I do not care where you go after this. You cannot kill me, and she can find you. Yes, len’alas lath’din, I am letting you go.”

She drew her knife threateningly and the woman winced, but the elf simply began cutting her bonds. “Oh, and one more thing,” she said as if just remembering. She leaned close to the woman’s ear and spoke so only she could hear. “The nightingale is not hers anymore. She is mine,” she growled. A light pop announced the bonds were cut, and Renya leaned back and watched the woman massage her wrists.

“Sten? Would you do the honors?”

“Come, bas,” Sten rumbled at her, gripping her upper arm and pulling her to her feet. He marched her to the edge of the camp and threw her on the ground. “Be glad she is merciful. Had you attacked the Beresaad in such a cowardly way, your screams would have been louder, longer, and ended much more violently.” He folded his arms and watched as she picked herself up and ran away. Something whistled through the air and landed in front of her, burying itself in the ground. She picked it up. It was her dagger. Turning around, she saw two green glints glaring at her in the dark behind the giant. Without pausing to think, she turned and ran into the darkness.

“Impressive throw, Warden,” Sten commented when the shadow had disappeared down the road.

“Ma serannas, Sten,” Renya said, still staring into the dark.

“I do not understand something,” he said as they walked back to the campfire. “She tortured you and yet you showed mercy.”

“I am Dalish, Sten.”

“I know this.”

Renya smiled. “The Dalish… we hold honor in high esteem. I do not want to be like the shemlen who hurt my clan, or the shemlen who have hurt me. I must act rightly; I must be better. Not only am I Dalish, I am now a Grey Warden.”

“Interesting,” Sten rumbled. “You hold your honor very high, Warden,” he added thoughtfully. They finished their walk in silence.

The rest of the camp was talking quietly, with Leliana still sitting miserably next to Nyviel, who appeared to be trying to comfort her with little success.

“And yet you still trust her,” Morrigan commented when Renya had sat down. Leliana looked up. Behind the deadness of her eyes sparked a little anger. “What other secrets could the good Chantry sister be hiding?”

Renya turned on her friend, her eyes flashing. For a moment, Morrigan actually looked afraid. “That is a good question, Morrigan. What secrets do any of us have? What secrets have I? You are a witch of the wilds – what are your secrets? Why did Flemeth send you with us? Perhaps I should ask if you are all you seem to be?” she vented at the witch.

“’Tis a fair question,” Morrigan began hesitatingly, but Renya cut her off.

“Does Alistair hold anything else close to his heart? Will Sten turn on us and join his qunari brethren, killing the people of Ferelden? Why should an old woman and a young elf from the Circle care to follow me? Perhaps Zevran lied about being rid of the Crows, and is plotting my death as I speak. And what of me? Why would a Dalish elf offer to help shemlen fight a Blight, when it would have been easier and preferable to leave and go north with my clan?” She took a deep breath, staring at Morrigan, who looked dumbfounded.  
“I…”

“All here have proven loyal to me. Until one of you breaks my trust, I will not withhold it,” she said with finality, staring into the fire. “If any of you do not trust this, or think me naïve, you are free to go. Remember that I did not beg any of you to follow me; you have decided to come of your own will, Mythal protect me,” she finished in a mutter.

The camp was silent.

“I stand with you,” Alistair said simply. Nods and assenting murmurs followed this. When Renya didn’t reply, he sighed. “I think we’ve all had enough excitement for tonight. Shale, will you watch until dawn?”

“I will do what the other Warden requests,” Shale said.

One by one the others retired to their bedrolls or to their tents. Leliana hadn’t moved from the log she was sitting on, and watched as Nyviel walked over to Renya and touched her arm, murmuring softly. Renya covered her hand; it looked like she sighed as she leaned into the other elf. Something roused Leliana and she got up and quickly marched to her tent, threw open the flap, and flopped onto her bedroll. Fresh air and pine filled the space around her from the tunic she was wearing. Bitter tears flowed down her cheeks as sleep took her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy. So that all just happened. What do you think of Renya's treatment of the assassin? And she's a little possessive of Leliana in her quiet way, isn't she?
> 
> "Len'alas lath'din" translates to something like "dirty child that no one loves," and the line from the Suledin that Renya sings is the part that talks about how they should not worry, because eventually life will be happy, the way it was before.
> 
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	49. Of Flowers, Then and Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elves love flowers.

Leliana woke early the next day, dressed herself in her armor, and exited her tent. She tripped over something heavy right outside the flap and almost fell.

“Elgar, what are you doing here?” she asked when she regained her balance. The mabari always slept at Renya’s feet. He whimpered at her. She knelt down to scratch his ears and he panted appropriately, but unless Leliana was mistaken his face still looked worried.

“It’s okay, boy,” she said. “Where’s Renya?”

He yipped conversationally at her.

“Only Renya and Morrigan understand you when you talk like that, sorry,” Leliana said with a smile.

“You’re awake.”

“I’m awake,” she replied evenly, looking up into the smiling face of Nyviel. The young elf’s expression faltered.

“Are you… how are you feeling this morning?”

“Fine. How are you? Did you and Renya pass the night well?”

Nyviel frowned at the bard’s tone. “Yes. She was very upset about what happened, but I eventually got her to sleep.”

“I see. That is good to hear,” Leliana said in a low voice.

“You are awake,” said another voice.

Renya had walked out of the forest. She was holding a bag of something that Elgar was very interested in. The silver griffin of her armor caught the rays of the rising sun and glittered red and gold. She looked at Leliana with some concern.

“I had hoped I would be back before… Elgar did not wake you, did he?” She shot the dog a look.

“No, no, he was very quiet,” Leliana replied, patting the dog’s head.

“Good.” She was staring at Leliana again. “How did you fare last night?” she asked.

“Fine.”

Renya’s eyebrows twitched together slightly at the cold tone. “Nyviel, could you give this to Zevran? I see he is stoking the fire,” Renya said, handing the bag over. Nyviel nodded and took the bag gingerly. Holding it at an arm’s length, she delivered it to the Antivan, Elgar snuffling behind her. Renya heard Zevran’s flirtatious comments toward the mage and kept herself from smiling. It was easy to do, seeing the look on Leliana’s face.

“How did you fare last night?” she asked again, a little more seriously.

“I heard Nyviel helped you get to sleep,” Leliana said.

“Helped? Yes, I suppose,” Renya said with a small frown. “She listened, whatever good that did.” She shook her head sadly. “You sounded like you were crying,” she added softly. “I spent the whole night here,” she said, pointing to the spot in which Leliana had found Elgar.

“Why didn’t you come in?” Leliana hated how accusatory and needy her voice sounded.

Renya looked surprised. “You told me you wanted to be alone.”

Leliana nodded, suddenly feeling stupid. Renya sat down next to her on the ground and rooted around in her pack. She pulled something out, keeping it hidden from the bard.

“I… I found these this morning…” Found them, sure. Renya had clambered through the forest for over half an hour, eschewing perfectly good game while she dug around pools and checked by the roots of trees. She pulled out three perfectly white flowers with red centers and presented them to Leliana. She watched for the bard’s reaction.

Leliana reached out slowly, her mouth slightly open. “Flowers for me? Wait. This is… it’s…”

“Andraste’s grace, I think you called it,” Renya said quietly. “The flower your mother loved.”

“You remembered…” Leliana murmured, taking the delicate flowers. She touched the petals gently and looked at the Warden, who was watching her nervously.

“Thank you so much,” Leliana said. “This means so much to me, I do not have the words to express. It’s…” She smiled, seeing the Warden stare at her with a very guarded expression. But Leliana threw her arms around her.

“Thank you,” Leliana whispered in her ear. She smiled as she felt it twitch at her voice, and her smile broadened as Renya hugged her back. “I love… I love it.” She turned her head slightly, heart hammering. Her soft kiss landed on Renya’s ear, and a pleasantly warm sensation filled her at the contact. The Warden gasped and moved as if going to pull away, but remained where she was.

“Are you okay?” Leliana asked, releasing her but keeping her hands on the woman’s shoulders. Renya was breathing heavily and looked confused and distracted.

“Yes. Yes, I am fine. Excuse me.” With that, she rose to check on Zevran’s cooking. Leliana watched as Nyviel engaged her in conversation; she held the flowers to her chest, wishing it was an elf, and not a plant, that was pressed against her.

***

A week passed uneventfully. After the attack, and the Warden’s subsequent outburst, the party seemed keen to all get along.

Morrigan and Renya were in the front of the group; Morrigan had just returned from a scouting errand the Warden had sent her on, and had just gracefully landed, transforming from raven to human in a flash of light. Leliana watched them as they talked. Morrigan shrugged and nodded slightly, pointing into the distance. Renya squinted, and then nodded as well.

“Excuse me, my redhaired beauty, but may I walk next to you?”

Leliana smiled at Zevran and nodded. Renya had been right; the Antivan was proving himself very loyal to the group.

“I’ve noticed some confusion that I thought I would alert you to,” he said, nodding at the bard. “Twice now I’ve seen your delicate skin brush against our lovely Warden’s ears, and twice her reaction has not been… perhaps as positive as you would have liked.” He was trying very hard to not involve himself in the Warden’s personal affairs, but the two women were making it so easy.

“Yes… her ear was injured. Perhaps you didn’t notice the scar,” Leliana replied dryly.

“Ah, but my dear bard, this is the confusion. Elves do not like when their ears are touched.”

“She’s mentioned that.”

Zevran looked confused. “And yet she allows you to touch her ears anyway?”

“She… has not told me to stop, although you are right, she does not seem to enjoy it,” Leliana said, wondering where the conversation was going.

“That is because… goodness, I did not expect the conversation to go like this. My apologies,” he added. “I was merely going to inform you that elves do not like their ears touched.” He frowned, thoughtful and unsure if he should continue. _But, fortune favors the brave, does it not?_ he asked himself. He sighed and silently asked the Warden to forgive him.

“Elven ears… they are very sensitive,” he said softly, glancing at Renya, who was now walking with both Morrigan and Alistair. Alistair had his maps out and it looked like they were arguing.

“I know, she can hear footsteps from a mile away, it seems…”

The Antivan laughed. “Yes, they hear well, but the ears themselves… they are… sensitive…” He gave her a meaningful look. Sighing, he added, “It can be very… sensual to touch an elf’s ears. What I mean is, the skin is very sensitive and delicate. When hurt, they hurt a lot… I cannot imagine what she must have gone through to get that scar…” He shuddered. “But… when touched gently…” He stared at her, hoping he wouldn’t have to spell it out. He noticed the argument in front of them had ended, and he didn’t want Renya suspecting what he was saying.

Leliana gasped with understanding. “All those times… Why did she let me…? I never meant to… Oh she must hate me so much! Why would she allow me to…?”

Zevran suppressed a frustrated groan. “Out of politeness, perhaps?” he offered. He sighed when he saw Leliana’s distraught face. “Does she allow others to touch her ears, my dear? Perhaps that is where you will find your answer. Now if you’ll excuse me, there are other lovely young women I would like to become better acquainted with.” He gave her a little sideways bow and hopped off to speak to Nyviel. Leliana walked along in silence, staring at the back of Renya’s head. She wasn’t quite able to explain the little pinprick of hope that had kindled in her heart.

***

Leliana found herself walking in the center of the little procession by herself, staring at the back of Alistair’s head. The tall Warden was a short distance in front of her, chatting quietly with Nyviel. Renya had disappeared into the forest on some errand and had promised to catch up with them, so they continued on. The bard tried not to worry as the minutes ticked by, but found herself glancing around for any sign of the Warden’s return with increasing fluency.

“Did you lose something, Leliana?” Renya ask, materializing next to her.

Leliana pretended to glare at her, ignoring the pleasant appearance of butterflies in her stomach. “Where did you come from?”

Renya smiled but didn’t respond. They continued walking side by side for a time, neither one speaking. Leliana tried to not stare so obviously at the elf next to her.

“Oh, look,” Renya commented some time later.

“What?” Leliana tried to follow Renya’s gaze, but the elf slipped away to the edge of the forest and back before she could say anything else.

She handed a small spray of Andraste’s grace to her after falling into step beside her again. Leliana smiled, and Renya mirrored it.

“For me?” Leliana asked. She accepted the flowers. “What is the occasion?”

Renya shrugged. “You like these, yes?”

Leliana nodded, a smile still tugging on the corners of her lips as she looked at the flowers.

“I saw them in the forest. That is the occasion,” the elf said, returning her attention to the road.

 _Of course,_ Leliana thought. A simple gift, given honestly. That was the only way that Renya knew. Leliana’s throat constricted a little. She didn’t deserve the honest kindness of this elf. So many others were more deserving than she. But her hands were betraying her. She plucked one of the flowers off and, hardly daring to breathe, turned and began to tuck the flower behind Renya’s ear.

_“What is that, pretty thing?”_

_“Oh, I…” Leliana smiled, her heart clenching a little as she presented the pink carnation. “Something I found at the duke’s…”_

_Marjolaine stared at it for a moment, and Leliana held her breath. Finally Marjolaine smiled and Leliana relaxed, the air suddenly lighter between them._

_“A pretty flower from a pretty girl,” she said with a hint of flirtation, letting her fingers drag along Leliana’s as she took the flower. She hesitated before tucking it into her pocket._

The elf turned and raised an eyebrow at her. Leliana withdrew.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. But Renya smiled and took the flower from her, tucking it behind her own ear.

“I think it pulls the fierce Grey Warden look together, don’t you?” she asked with a little humor. Leliana nodded, twisting her fingers around the stems still in her hand.

“Yes, it-it suits you,” she replied.

Renya reached over and pulled one of the flowers from Leliana’s hands. Leliana’s heart fluttered as Renya brushed the bard’s hair out of the way and placed the flower behind her ear.

“It looks prettier on you,” Renya said simply.

Leliana broke into a wide smile. “I…”

“Warden,” Morrigan interrupted, joining them in a flash of light after swooping down as a raven. “I have- What is that _thing_ behind your ear?”

“A flower.”

Morrigan shook her head, lips pressed together in a line. “You look ridiculous.”

Leliana scowled at her even as her breath caught.

_The next morning, Leliana woke to cold, empty sheets next to her. A sweet, yet burnt, smell drifted past her. She dismissed it as Sketch experimenting again, until she saw the hint of something pink in the ashes of the fireplace: the remains of a single flower petal spared from the flames._

_Leliana barely had time to react before Marjolaine walked into the room, a pink flower pinned to her blouse. Instantly Leliana relaxed, until she saw that the flower was a chrysanthemum, almost the exact size, shape, and color of the gifted carnation. A mistake, wasn’t it? Yes, it had to be a mistake…_

Renya, however, laughed at the grumpy apostate, startling Leliana from her thoughts.

“Well, I am an elf, Morrigan. I cannot help it. We love flowers.” She considered the apostate. “You know, I think you would look fantastic with a crown of daisies. I saw some before…”

Morrigan’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare.”

“Wait here, I will be right back.” Renya grinned at Morrigan and pretended to walk toward the forest.

“You have gone insane, Warden.” And she huffed off.

“Renya?” Alistair called from the front of the group. Without another word, Renya jogged up to him, leaving Leliana by herself again.

Leliana couldn’t contain her smile as she watched Renya continue along the path with the flower still tucked safely behind her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw.
> 
> I'm going to pat myself on the back because I really like the line about wanting an elf, and not a plant, pressed against Leliana. I don't know why, but it just makes my little heart ache. Anyway... something a little lighter after the drama from last time. What do you think of the parallel flower-giving with Marjolaine and Renya?
> 
> Also, bonus kudos to anyone for divining the meaning behind the summary before the end of the story... It's based on fan art/stories, so you'd have to be as crazy as I am to get the reference, probably, but just thought I'd ask ;)
> 
> *edit*Kudos to Fern11 for digging through fanfics to find the fiction referenced in-text! When you have a chance, check out [this one-shot](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7556533/1/Grace) by Rose Tinted Contact Lenses. Honestly, Leliana and Renya's interactions weren't inspired by the story, but I loved the foil of Leliana and Marjolaine's interactions, so in the end I decided to give a nod to RTCL's great creation.*/edit*
> 
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	50. Wanting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renya tells a story of her past, and Leliana listens. The evening ends unexpectedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're at Chapter 50, and have over 3,000 views! You guys are the absolute best! Thanks for sticking with Renya and her friends for this long!

“You stare at her so hungrily,” Morrigan observed late one evening, catching Leliana gazing across camp toward where Renya was meditating.

“Where I look is none of your concern,” Leliana said testily, facing the witch.

“’Tis as if you wish her to feel the weight of your stare and notice you,” Morrigan continued, a tight smile forming on her lips. “And perhaps she does notice you. But what does she see?” She appraised Leliana. “A short, skinny girl with hardly any figure, with short, choppy hair.”

“You seem very interested in my looks, Morrigan,” Leliana returned. “Perhaps I should be flattered.”

“I care not for your appearances, bard, unlike those you have seduced.”

“Then what is it you want?”

“I? I want nothing from you. I merely am observing your continued attempts to draw our Warden’s attention onto yourself, when she so obviously is more focused on her task at hand.”

“That is quite an observation,” the bard said icily. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“’Tis folly, the path you are on,” Morrigan said airily, beginning to return to her tent. She paused, thoughtful. “But perhaps still useful,” she murmured to herself. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught Leliana again staring at the Warden. “I bid you a good night,” she said before walking away.

Leliana sat where she was for a long time, considering Morrigan’s words. Perhaps she was right; what did Renya see when she looked at her? She was once thought very pretty, but that was years ago… Zevran’s comments floated into her mind again, fighting with Morrigan’s for attention. She sighed, feeling more out-of-place than she had in a while.

***

“Hello, Leliana,” Renya said with a smile, turning in the dark to see the bard approaching her.

“It seems that is your standard late-night greeting,” Leliana said jokingly. “Eventually I will be so quiet even _your_ ears won’t be able to hear me.” She tightened her jaw briefly when she heard what she had said.

“Have you come to keep me company?” Renya asked, still smiling as she arranged the extra fur lining she had placed inside her armor. They were only a day or two away from Haven, and the weather was turning cold very quickly.

“I… I have,” the bard replied. It was too dark to see Renya’s expression.

“Good. I have missed our chats,” she said simply. “Should I ask for a story, or is it my turn?”

“Why have you let me touch your ears?” Leliana blurted, with more accusation than she meant. Green eyes blinked at her.

“I guess it is my turn,” Renya commented mildly. “Have I offended you?”

“No, I… it’s just… elf…”

Renya waited patiently, bemused as the bard tripped over her words. Leliana took a steadying breath.

“I heard that elf ears are very… sensitive… to touch, and that’s why you don’t like people touching your ears,” she finished quickly. “So why have you let me?”

Renya surveyed her. “Who said these things to you?” Her voice was harsher than Leliana had expected. She hugged herself nervously.

“Zevran…”

The Warden sighed. “I thought I heard him mutter something about ears at you the other day…” She shook her head. “He is right. And yes, that is why elves do not let others touch their ears. It is usually only the one you are bonded to that is allowed to touch them, but…” She sighed again. “I am among humans, who, if nothing else, find elves exotic and attractive.”

“So you are just being polite?” It felt as if Leliana’s heart was about to shatter.

“Yes, but… I do not… It… You just… You just startle me sometimes,” Renya finally settled on.

“You don’t mind?”

Even in the dark, Leilana could see the elf’s curt shrug. She was about to say something else when Renya sat on the ground. She followed her. They sat silently for a while. Renya leaned back on her hands, and Leliana followed her lead, letting her fingers rest gently on the back of the elf’s hand.

“What is wrong?” Renya said. “Your hands are like ice…” Leliana tried to control her breathing as the elf gently covered Leliana’s fingers with her own. “Do all humans have such cold hands?”

“I… I don’t know. It is getting into late autumn, as well,” Leliana said. Her eyes were drawn to Renya’s silhouette in the dark.

“You are right. And you are used to living inside, I would imagine. Yes?”

But Leliana had stopped paying attention. With a start, she realized how close she had drifted to Renya. She reached out and rubbed the side of Renya’s face gently.

“You… have a little dirt…” she said awkwardly. Renya nodded.

“Sleeping on the ground does that to me,” she admitted with a little humor. She became very still as Leliana’s hand drifted up her face again.

“Go on, then,” Renya said. She closed her eyes, wondering when she became so reckless.

Slowly, Leliana began to stroke Renya’s ear, over the tip and down. She did this for a while, eventually rubbing the back of it as well.

Part of Renya’s brain was telling her to pull away, but her muscles weren’t responding to her thoughts. In a twisted sort of compromise, Renya sat stiffly, but she smiled and closed her eyes at the attention nonetheless.

Leliana, unaware, felt a pleasant jolt in her stomach at the sigh that escaped Renya. She drifted toward the elf, letting her fingers slide down the ear and then the side of Renya’s face. Leaning in, she gently kissed Renya’s cheek once, and then again, lingering this time. She felt Renya smile as her nose dragged along her skin, until her lips hovered above the pointed ear again. She hesitated, her hand resting on Renya’s shoulder.

Leliana brushed her lips over the ear and felt the ear twitch, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath. The ear twitched again, and Renya turned away, leaving Leliana once again disappointed.

“My watch is over,” she said, suddenly businesslike, although she sounded out of breath. “Nyviel is coming.”

Nyviel, of course.

_Fleeting, Leliana. And nobody likes broken things…_

Leliana ignored Renya’s offered hand and pulled herself to her feet. She was about to return to her tent without futher comment, feeling sick at how she had let herself be taken in by the elf, when she felt a hand grab hers.

“I owe you a story, don’t I?” Renya asked softly. Leliana stared at Renya, confused, and didn’t respond. Nyviel walked up.

“Anything I need to know about? Hi, Leliana,” Nyviel said cheerfully. She stifled a yawn.

“No, everything is quiet,” Renya said. “You will be alright?”

“Yes, the cold is waking me up, don’t worry.”

“Enjoy your watch,” Renya said kindly. “Goodnight.”

“Ma nuvenin,” Nyviel replied with a laugh. “Goodnight.”

With a look at the redhead, Renya began walking to her bedroll, assuming Leliana wanted to be left alone again.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, you owe me a story,” Leliana said in a small voice, her heart pounding. Maker, why did she insist on continuing to do this to herself? But Renya looked pleased.  
  
“Have I ever told you about the first time I went hunting by myself? You will enjoy this… a young, carefree Renya running around a forest like she knew what she was doing…” The elf chuckled.

Leliana smiled slightly. “You? Carefree? I think I’m going to like this story.”

They entered her tent. Renya sat on the ground stoically, and Leliana knew better than to invite her into the bedroll. She crawled in, and about halfway through became aware of the slow, fluid, and purposeful movements her body was making as she opened the roll and got in. She wished she could see where exactly those green eyes were looking, and felt a little thrill at the thought of Renya’s gaze sweeping over her.

“How well can you see in the dark?” Leliana asked before she could stop herself.

“Very well,” Renya replied with a smile. “I can see your tunic is made of green, and your hair is red…”

Leliana laughed. “But you already know these things. The tunic is the one you gave me, and my hair does not change color at night…”

“I can also see that you are looking at me with a little more color in your cheeks than usual.”

The bard went silent and Renya laughed. “You are cute when you are surprised.” She paused. “How do you see in the dark?”

Clearing her throat, Leliana replied, “Not as well as you, unfortunately. I can see a shadowy outline, and your eyes glow a little in the dark. I can see how green they are. And that’s not fair – open them again!” she said with humor as the little glints disappeared.

“And how well can you hear?” the elf said softly right next to Leliana’s ear, making her startle.

“Not as well as I thought. You snuck up on me,” she replied. Her heart jumped at the chuckle that came out of Renya’s throat, and jumped again when she turned her head and felt Renya’s nose grazed past her temple and warm breath rustled past her ear before the elf pulled away a little. Leliana leaned back onto her traveling pack and faced the elf, smiling when Renya shifted to sit close to her.

“So it was my first real hunt after I was no longer an apprentice,” Renya began softly without any more preamble. “I was so excited to not have Hahren Elrerion – he was the master hunter – with me that I barely remembered any of my training.”

Leliana inched a litte closer, wanting more than anything to run her hands up the elf’s arms and pull her close.

“I had begged Hahren Ilen – he was the master craftsman – to trade for a dar’misu for me, because Nolith – he was my brother – had been given one by a friend from another clan. I was jealous.”

“I see,” Leliana said, torn between being interested in the story and wanting to interrupt Renya as impulsively as possible. “So we owe your brother a great deal for introducing you to swordsmanship.”

The elf chuckled. “Vin. Yes, I suppose. I wanted his, but he traded it before I could convince him to give it to me. Something about it being too cumbersome. He just was bad at using it,” she finished softly. “I used to tease him about it.” Her voice was sad now, and Leliana capitalized on the opportunity to place her hand on Renya’s shoulder comfortingly. Yes. Comfortingly.

“But I was talking about my hunt, wasn’t I?” Renya said, not indicating she noticed Leliana’s hand. “Well, I tracked a large deer, took out my bow, and proceeded to miss every single shot I took,” she said with a laugh.

“Oh no!” Leliana said. She leaned in a little. “What did you do?”

“Well, I had my brand-new dar’misu, didn’t I? The next opportunity I had, I threw it at the deer and whacked its shoulder good and proper with the handle.”

“You’re kidding!” Leliana said with a little laugh, tugging on Renya’s shoulder a bit.

“I wish I was. It was good no one was around to see me. I started practicing with it after that. It was not balanced the same way my hunting knife was. Merrill…” Renya hesitated, but then barreled on. “Merrill used to scold me about showing off in front of the fledglings, and it only got worse once they saw me practicing with the dar’misu… But I always loved working with blades more than bows.”

“I… I like when you show off,” Leliana offered quietly.

Renya exhaled a soft chuckle. “Do you? Hahren Marethari would tell you to not encourage me.”

“Hahren Marethari isn’t here,” Leliana replied a moment before she could stop herself. She held her breath.

“She isn’t, is she?” Renya agreed softly.

“So I… I will encourage you all I want,” Leliana said with dramatic finality, trying to lighten the conversation again.

It worked, and Renya chuckled softly. Leliana smiled in response, relieved.

“And what will you be encouraging me to do, Leliana?” she asked conspiratorially, leaning in close to the other woman.

Leliana’s heart started racing, and it was a wonder that Renya wasn’t able to hear it hammering away in her chest.

“I-I… Any-anything you w-want to do,” Leliana offered with less flirtation and more awkwardness than she had planned. She tugged on Renya’s shoulder a little more, drifting closer and not noticing that Renya was, too.

She held her breath, but the elf turned her head and gently rubbed their cheeks together.

Leliana smiled. It was such a simple, sweet gesture, and she hardly dared to hope that this was a Dalish courting custom. She breathed deeply, willing Renya to kiss her, too. She closed her eyes as her prayers were answered, feeling Renya’s lips trace down her cheek, lingering at the corner of her lips. Leliana turned her head, silently begging, but the elf pulled her head away.

“Ir…I am sorry…” she said, strained. “I…”

“It’s okay,” Leliana whispered, rubbing her hands around Renya’s back. She felt relieved when the elf didn’t pull away from her touch, although her muscles were taught and trembling. They stayed like this, silent, for a few moments. “It’s okay,” she repeated, now stroking Renya’s face, letting her fingers brush against the elf’s ears.

Renya moved away. “I… I can’t…” she said, sounding broken. “I… I have to go. Goodnight,” she said shortly, gently pulling away from Leliana. She hovered at the door before swooping back down and brushing her lips against the side of Leliana’s mouth. Without another word she was gone. Leliana thought she heard a soft sob as she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smiles crookedly*
> 
> I have no comments that could possibly add to this chapter.
> 
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	51. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Renya's flight from Leliana's tent.

_“I can’t. I have to go. Goodnight.”_ The words echoed in Leliana’s head as she pulled her blanket tightly around herself. Maker, it wasn’t fair.

“Renya?” came Nyviel’s whispered call. “Are you alright?”

_But it is,_ she contradicted herself, feeling disappointed and angry. _Why should she have stayed? Because I wanted her to? How could I think that I am someone she would want?_ Renya was so honest, and Leliana was so… _sullied,_ she thought miserably. It didn’t matter than Renya’s lips had lingered so close to her own. The elf had fled Leliana’s tent in a flurry of ragged movements so unlike her usual grace. Leliana sighed.

She had tried to play the game, and lost.

“Creators, Renya. What happened?” Nyviel murmured. “Come here.”

Lost to Nyviel.

Sounds of muffled crying reached Leliana’s ears, interspersed with Nyviel’s whispered words of comfort that were just at the edge of Leliana’s hearing.

_Good. She_ should _be upset,_ she thought defiantly. _How_ dare _she lead me on…_

She flipped onto her side angrily and wrapped her blankets around herself. Instantly the voice in her head changed. It seemed to slither up from the depths of her unconscious, mocking her.

_Broken… fleeting… unworthy of love…_

She fell asleep and dreamed dark dreams.

***

_“I am to leave after Tamlen’s funeral…”_

_“No…”_

_“And I am to become a Grey Warden. Fight this shemlen’s Blight…”_

_“No…”_

_“He says there is a chance I will not return…”_

_“No!”_

_“Merrill…” Renya cried, collapsing into her arms. “I don’t want to go!”_

_Merrill stroked Renya’s hair, crying into her shoulder. “Renya… I don’t want to lose you…”_

_“I… I have no choice. It is either become a Grey Warden, or die of this taint…”_

_“Marethari cured you…”_

_“No, Merrill. She didn’t.”_

_“_ I’ll _find a way to cure you! I’ll cleanse the Eluvian, and then everything will be okay!”_

_“Ma vhenan, don’t say things like that.”_

_“I don’t care what I have to do. It’s my job as first. It’s my job as… as… as your falon’saota …”_

_“Merrill,” Renya said, pulling away slightly. She held the other elf’s shoulders seriously. “The shemlen says I will not return. If he is right… I need to know you will be safe.”_

_It was a terrible moment. As the two elves stared into each other’s eyes, the finality of the situation sunk in._ No, _Renya thought desperately. Their lives would intersect again. They_ must. _It wasn’t fair…_

_“I… Renya, how can you ask me…?”_

_“Merrill, please.”_

_“I will be safe, Renya. I promise you.” Merrill kissed her. “I love you.” She kissed her again. “I love you.” Another kiss. “I love you…” She jumped into Renya’s arms and wrapped her legs around her waist. Renya held her easily and carried her into her nearby aravel, kissing her passionately. They didn’t come out until the funeral was set to begin._

Renya opened her eyes with a sigh, wiping away the tear streaks on her face. The sun was beginning to rise and so, with a heavy heart, Renya sat up and began her morning meditation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my. Well, now we know a little more about where Renya is coming from, and a little more about how deep Leliana's jealousy runs.
> 
> And falon'saota, hm? That complicates things a bit...
> 
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	52. Lurking in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group prepares to go to Haven. Something unexpected complicates Renya's task.

“Are you alright?” Alistair asked his fellow Warden later that morning as they set off. She nodded.

“I did not sleep well.”

The other Warden looked at her with some concern. “Were you having nightmares? Because…”

“No, nothing like that. Just a bad night,” she said with a shrug.

“Perhaps it should rethink its sleeping arrangements,” Shale offered. “The weather is turning cold, and it is very soft and squishy. Perhaps the outside air is too cold for it to sleep?”

“Perhaps. Once we are closer to Haven we can re-think our sleeping arrangements,” Renya commented.

Meanwhile, Zevran was speaking with Morrigan.

“So you do not fear the Crows at all?” the apostate asked.

Zevran sighed. “I think of it more as my lack of desire to leave far exceeding my fear of them. Why do you ask?”

“Do you think the Grey Wardens will offer you safe harbor once all this is done? You surely are not so naïve,” Morrigan pressed.

“I’m willing to take my chances,” Zevran replied with a shrug.

“And if you are wrong?”

“Then I will be dead,” the elf replied matter-of-factly. “One does not do what I do and fear death.”

Morrigan tutted. “There are fates worse than death…” Her eyes lingered on Leliana, remembering the scars she had spotted under her shirt.

“And one of them,” Zevran said gently, “is being unable to choose the master you serve. Trust me, me dear, I am very well pleased with my current direction.”

“Which is?”

“Helping fight the Blight, serving the Wardens, and traveling with a group of lovely women. Currently, I am pleased to be speaking with a beauty such as yourself,” he said with charm.

Morrigan scoffed. “Where do you think flattery will get you, I wonder?”

“I pine for a smile of yours; it would look wonderful on you, my dear. You should try it sometime.”

“Hm.” She turned to Nyviel. “Will you now speak to him? I am done with this creature for a time.”

Zevran chuckled as Morrigan stalked away.

“Warden,” Morrigan said, coming up to the elf. “I wonder if perhaps we should…” She stopped talking suddenly. “What was that?”

“I heard it, too,” Renya whispered. Another crackle came from the woods.

“We are not alone,” Zevran commented softly, pulling out his daggers.

Suddenly, they were surrounded by a pack of ferociously attacking wolves. They fought as hard as they could but it took time to recover from the surprise.

“Alistair, the mages!” Renya called. He nodded and bashed his shield against one of the animals before running to protect the three women huddled together frantically casting spells. A growl announced Elgar’s presence as he jumped at an approaching wolf and brought it down. A strangled cry caught Renya’s attention, and she spun in time to see Leliana go down under two snarling wolves.

With a growl of her own, Renya pulled her bow from her back and took careful aim. Her hands were shaking, and she prayed to Andruil that she wouldn’t miss. Two arrows flew, burying themselves in the neck of one of the wolves. Zevran, too, had heard the scream and arrived in time to kill the other wolf with a well-placed strike.

Finally the wolves were dead. The party picked itself back up and tested injured limbs tentatively. Wynne thanked Alistair and examined his arm, which was bleeding, and Nyviel approached the two other elves to tend their injuries. Sten and Elgar had made it through the attack unscathed.

“Warden!” came Morrigan’s voice sharply. She was staring at a body on the ground with some concern. Leliana had not risen with the rest.

With a look at Renya, Nyviel hurried over, calling for Wynne, and Renya felt a strong hand grab her upper arm.

“She will be alright,” Zevran said quietly, although his voice didn’t sound as sure as his grip felt. Wynne and Nyviel were crouched over Leliana, murmuring. Morrigan approached the Warden.

“She does not look well, Warden,” she said bluntly. Zevran shot her a look. “What? Shall I lie and give false hope?”

“Thank you, Morrigan,” Renya said without emotion, watching the mages work. Finally they rose.

“She will survive,” Wynne said when the Warden came over.

“Why is she not awake?”

The older mage sighed. “Sometimes when the body is healed from a serious injury, it takes time for the mind to catch up.”

Renya blinked at her. “So Leliana’s mind still thinks that she is hurt?”

“Something like that. As soon as her mind realizes that she is healed, she will wake,” Wynne replied with a nod. Nyviel, too, was nodding, looking sad.

“Since we are stopped,” Morrigan said. “I wonder if we should scout ahead. ‘Tis a remote place, and we might do well to know what awaits us, especially now if one of us is injured.”

Renya nodded. “Let me catch my breath, Morrigan. Then we can go.”

“Me? Are you sure that you would not rather…?”

“I am Dalish and used to sneaking around in woods. You can turn into a raven,” Renya replied in a tone that ended the discussion.

“Perhaps after lunch?” Zevran said. “If you are scouting, you will need your strength.” At Renya’s nod, he set about gathering food from packs.

She sat down next to Leliana. Wynne looked at her seriously. “She will be fine, Renya,” the mage said assuredly. “You do not need to worry yourself so. You have enough to worry about, do you not?”

“I do, but I still have a little space to worry about my friends… my clan,” she said, giving Wynne a look. She turned her attention back to Leliana at Wynne’s sigh.

Lunch was fairly quiet. Morrigan was arguing with Alistair about blood magic when Renya’s voice cut through the camp.

“Wynne? I think something is wrong…”

The mage hurried over and looked at Leliana. Her face looked blotchy and her head was hot. She sighed with realization. Some of the wolves had red-rimmed eyes, signs of disease.

“Will she be okay?” Renya asked, watching the mage’s expression change.

“With time and rest…” Wynne said. “The first we do not have, and the second is unlikely to come, traveling with Grey Wardens.”

Renya shook her head stubbornly. “She can rest today while we scout. We will figure it out. I was injured and we kept moving; it is possible.”

“…R…Renya…” Leliana breathed. Wynne and Renya looked down at her in shock.

“Emm’andaran. I am here,” Renya said, crouching down next to her.

“Renya… don’t…” Her voice faded. “Don’t leave me…” The words were barely audible.

“I will not leave you behind,” she said, ignoring Wynne’s raised eyebrow. “I promise.” Leliana nodded before drifting to sleep again. Renya stood.

“I will be back in a few hours. Set up camp. We will not be traveling more today.” Without waiting for anyone to respond, she whistled for Elgar and marched off to meet Morrigan.

***

The walk through the forest was liberating. Or it would have been, if Renya hadn’t been so preoccupied with concern for Leliana. Nyviel had promised to sit by and watch her, and Zevran, of course with a wink, said that he would personally ensure her safety if they were attacked again. She had left Alistair and Sten to set up the camp, and Bodahn had offered his cart once more, should the occasion arise. Everything would be fine, Renya told herself, and they would find Andraste’s ashes without issue.

Andraste’s ashes. Leliana had wanted to see them, but now, sick as she was, Renya wasn’t sure that was a possibility. They couldn’t postpone their errand; the arl’s life depended on these ashes. But how could Leliana make the long walk up the mountain? And what of the dangers they might face? She rubbed her vallaslin, shaking her head.

Would Leliana ever forgive her for leaving her behind? And even if she did, could Renya ever forgive herself, knowing what she had kept from her? Renya did not care for Andraste or the Shantri’s Maker, but when it came to Leliana… She was distracted by the cawing of a raven above her head, and looked up briefly. Elgar paused, sniffing.

She reached the edge of the woods and peered at the tiny village in front of her. Haven appeared to be a quiet, sleepy little town. What struck her as odd was that there was no one out and about. True, it was cold, but no smoke rose from chimneys, no children’s voices were heard, the smithy seemed silent. The only life was one moderately-equipped guard standing at the bottom of the hill. A flash announced Morrigan’s presence.

“’Tis most strange, is it not?” the witch commented quietly. “It seems that none live here, though I doubt this man guards a ghost’s town. Where could they be?”

“You saw no one?”

Morrigan shook her head. “They must be inside the buildings, but I shudder to think what they are doing. It is too… still here, and I do not like it, Warden. ‘Tis a quiet enough village, but looks can be deceiving, of course.”

“I do not like it either. We should go back,” Renya said, turning slowly. She felt uncomfortable with her back to the guard. Elgar bumped against her leg, looking at her with as much concern as a dog can.

“Might I ask who will accompany us to the temple?”

Renya sighed. “I suppose I will ask for volunteers. Alistair will come, I know…”

“While I care not for this Andraste, I am interested in the history of the place. There may be knowledge there worth preserving,” Morrigan said, surprising Renya.

“Of course, Morrigan.”

“…and what of the Chantry sister?”

Renya hesitated. “What of her?”

Morrigan arched an eyebrow at her, gold eyes glinting. “She no doubt would want to see these ashes, if they in fact exist; they must be important to someone like her. What will you do with this request?”

“She has already asked me, and I said she would come with us,” Renya said. “But it will depend on her health.”

“She would be most displeased.”

The elf sighed. “What do you suggest?”

“I am merely curious. ‘Tis obvious you care for her.”

“Of course. She is part of our group, fighting the Blight with us.” She caught Morrigan’s raised eyebrow and frowned. “I am not sure what else you mean. She is a human, I have a life to return to, and I am probably going to die fighting this Blight,” Renya added with frustration. She thought about the last part of what she had said, and her pulse quickened. No, that was not something that was going to happen, she told herself. She was going to return to her clan.

Renya shook her head at Morrigan’s unchanging disbelieving expression. “Dalish traditions frown on mingling with humans, and I cannot let someone fall in love with me only to leave them.”

“‘Let’? Perhaps you have no say in the feelings of others, Warden, as powerful as you may be,” Morrigan said in a sing-song voice.

“I never would have thought you would play the matchmaker, Morrigan,” Renya said, looking at her incredulously.

“You have said we are friends,” Morrigan replied. “Friends talk about these kinds of things, do they not? I am merely being your friend.”

“‘Friendship’ and ‘merely’ generally do not go together,” Renya said as an aside. “But you are right. Perhaps I cannot control the feelings of others. But I can control my actions, and I have not yet decided what I should do.”

“Hm. Your duty is great, ‘tis true, Warden,” Morrigan said. “And one does not need love to perform one’s duty. It makes things… overly complicated. It weakens your mind to the objective at hand.”

There was the Morrigan she was expecting. “I suppose you are right, Morrigan.”

“Indeed.”

“Do you think Zevran will have made the evening meal?” Renya asked, watching as the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon. “I am famished.”

“I would be glad for anyone’s cooking.’Twould be better than anything Alistair could make,” Morrigan commented with a shake of her head.

“That is for certain,” Renya agreed.

***

Nyviel was at the edge of the camp to greet them with a hot bowl of stew each. Renya took it hungrily and started eating with a word of thanks, and Morrigan, too, began to eat, not realizing how hungry she had been until Nyviel had handed her the bowl.

“So what did you find out?” Nyviel asked as Renya chewed.

“The town is strange,” Renya said as they came up to the campfire. Leliana was awake and sitting on a log by the fire. She was wrapped in blankets, but some of her coloring had returned.

“You look better,” the Warden commented, sitting down on another log, Nyviel perched next to her.

“What’s strange about the town?” she asked, taking Renya’s empty bowl and handing her another one, oblivious to Leliana’s glare. She fidgeted a little with her robes.

“Ma serannas,” Renya said, pulling her eyes off of Leliana and gulping down more stew. “There was no one around, save for one guard. No smoke in the chimneys, no sounds except the birds. It was strange.” She shoveled in a few more bites; she caught Alistair doing the same and grinned. She ate quietly, thinking. “It was much too quiet, but Morrigan spoke rightly. A guard would not be posted at the entrance of a town with no residents.”

Leliana reached weakly toward Renya’s again-empty bowl but Nyviel beat her to it, refilling it and handing it back to the Warden.

“It seems that we will have no trouble, then,” the young elf commented with a smile. She saw the looks on the rest of her companions’ faces. “What?”

“Something’s odd about this. I don’t like it,” Alistair commented gravely.

“Indeed, it seems like a trap, but it does not make sense who would lay a trap in the hopes that someone might happen by,” said Zevran thoughtfully.

No one had any other ideas, and as the fire burned low, Wynne excused herself, stating that she had watch that night and wanted to rest. On her way, she ushered Leliana back to her tent, as well.

“And we must discuss who will travel with us up the mountain,” Renya commented to Alistair. The other Warden nodded heavily.

“I do not wish to rescue the ashes of any martyr of the humans’ Chantry,” Sten said.

“And Wynne was telling me that she does not think she can trek up the mountains in the cold,” Nyviel offered. Shale scoffed.

“And here I thought I was going to be the only one left to watch the camp.”

“So that leaves us,” Renya said, indicating herself and Alistair, “Morrigan, Zevran, Nyviel, and Leliana. Sorry, Elgar,” she said to the dog who barked indignantly. “I need you here.” She surreptitiously glanced at Leliana’s tent, and Elgar huffed in apparent agreement.

There was a pause. “You’re not seriously thinking of bringing Leliana, are you? I mean, she’s been very useful, but look how sick she is. She could use the rest.” Alistair was looking at her very seriously.

“We will see her health tomorrow and make that decision,” Renya said after a moment.

“No, absolutely not. Renya, I realize she’s a Chantry sister and everything, but we can’t put her health at risk because of this. She’ll get over it…” the other Warden insisted.

“She would get over it,” Renya agreed reluctantly. “But…”

Leliana listened from inside her tent. In her fevered brain, she turned on Renya. “You promised me,” Leliana murmured to the elf’s shadow still sitting by the fire. “You told me I could come with you to see the ashes, and now you would take that away?”

“Maybe I should stay as well?” floated Nyviel’s voice through the flap of the tent. “To… just in case…”

“No,” came Renya’s response. “We will need all the help we can get. Who knows what is up the mountain?”

Leliana’s anger increased. “You would break your promise to me and replace me with her?” Working herself up, she flopped down on her bedroll, continuing to berate Renya in her mind.

“How dare you,” she fumed to herself. “How dare you treat me like this, you just…” Images of Renya presenting her with Andraste’s grace floated up in her mind, and of her eyes crinkled in the dark when Leliana would join her during her watch. She remembered, with anger this time, how close Renya’s lips had lingered to her own, before seeking refuge in... _in Nyviel’s arms,_ Leliana thought with the hint of a snarl parting her lips.

“You discard me… Just like _her._ You _are_ her. You are just as treacherous, just as horrid…”

She fell into a fitful sleep, missing the rest of the conversation.

“I made a promise, lethallin. I will not break it unless I have no other choice, and even then very unwillingly,” Renya said hotly. Alistiar sighed.

“Fine, we’ll continue this argument tomorrow in front of the poor girl, instead. Is that better?”

Renya exhaled sharply. “I do not know. I have first watch tonight,” she said grumpily, getting up and walking into a tent. She emerged minutes later in her Dalish armor, lined with some of the warmer clothing they had purchased. The other Warden sighed.

“I’m not trying to be mean,” he said to no one in particular.

“She knows, Alistair,” Nyviel said before getting up and following the other elf.

***

“I promised her, Nyviel,” Renya said when the younger elf had caught up with her. “And it means so much to her…”

“There is this whole night for her to heal,” Nyviel replied, not really believing the bard would be much better in the morning, but wanting to make Renya feel better.

“Hm.”

They stood silently for a while.

“It is too much…”

Nyviel touched her arm gently as Renya buried her face in her hands.

“What is?”

“Nyviel, I…” Renya faded with a sigh and dropped her hands. “I am just one elf. I have a…” Her heart ached at the thought of Merrill. “I have people to go back to, a clan that I care for, and that cares for me. There is a chance I will…” She trailed off and sighed again. “It is not fair. Connor, the girl at Honnleath, Duncan, Tamlen…” She took a shuddering breath. “It is… it is just not fair.”

“It’s not,” Nyviel agreed quietly, leaning into Renya as they started walking again and looping their arms together. “And… I know the Dalish try to regain their history, but shouldn’t you also think a little bit about your future? Not just where you’ve been, but where you want to go?”

“Where I want to go?” Renya said softly. “I want to go home. To my clan. To Merrill. To Tam-…” She shook her head, her throat tight. “It does not matter anymore,” she finished in a strained whisper.

“Yes it does,” Nyviel said stoutly. “Of course it does. You know this.”

Renya raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”

Nyviel nodded. “Yes. Otherwise you would have left us a long time ago. But you’re still here.”

The two elves were silent for a long time, leaning against each other and peering out into the darkness. Finally Renya took a deep breath.

“Ma serannas, lethallan,” she said softly, pulling Nyviel into a hug. “You are right.”

Neither one of them noticed Leliana lurking in the dark behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes.
> 
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	53. The Same and Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana confronts Renya in the woods, putting her in danger.

“You would seek out Andraste’s ashes without me?” came a voice behind Renya after Nyviel had left her. The familiar voice had a strange tone to it tonight.

“Hello, Leliana,” Renya said as normally as she could, turning her back to the forest. Her mouth dropped open a little. The bard was wearing a purple dress that she had gotten in Denerim, and it hugged her body alluringly. She blinked and gave herself a little shake. “What are you… shouldn’t you be resting?”

Leliana continued walking toward her as if she hadn’t heard.

“You would leave me here, alone, while you seek something so precious to me? You? A heathen? One who does not respect or even acknowledge Andraste?”

Renya frowned. Ignoring the reference to heathens, she said, “Leliana, Andraste was a friend to the elves. You told me that.” She noticed the red rimming still around Leliana’s eyes. “Come, let me take you back to your tent. You are still sick…”

“Would you defile the Chantry?” Leliana asked, still advancing on Renya with a swish of her hips, caught perfectly by the dim firelight behind her. “Laugh in the face of the Maker?”

“No…?” Renya said, backing up a little. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with Leliana, but at least she wasn’t armed, the elf noted with a little relief.

“But you would break your promise to me,” Leliana said smoothly.

“No, Leliana, I would not do that. I want you to come with us, but I do not want you to become more ill…”

“So this is for my sake?” Leliana mocked, still coming toward her. Renya backed into a tree and she swallowed, for once afraid of the bard. She had her swords, but how could she use them against her?

“For who else’s well-being would I be concerned?”

“You do not wish to dispose of me to pursue another?” Leliana said, stepping close to the elf. She placed her hands on Renya’s shoulders. “Perhaps one of your kind?”

Renya’s heart was pounding. Her brows knit together more tightly. “Leliana, what are you talking about…?”

The bard traced her hands down the elf’s arms and back up again. One of her hands snaked up Renya’s neck and began to gently caress the ear, lingering there. She pressed herself into the elf firmly.

“Leliana!”

“Does she touch your ears just right?” she purred, gently tracing the ridges of skin inside the elf’s ear. She switched to rubbing behind it and smiled as Renya’s breathing increased. “Does she understand your teasing better than me?” she murmured into Renya’s ear, her breath making the ear tremble a little and goose bumps appear on Renya’s skin. Her fingers continued to gently rub Renya’s ear while her other hand snaked down Renya’s body, pulling on buckles and ties.

She leaned in a little closer. “I could make you forget her, you know…”

Briefly, Renya saw Merrill’s olive eyes, innocent smile, and vallaslin. She was laughing at something Renya had said, and Renya could feel the tingle of magic power as the first held her hand. But in an instant Merrill was gone, and Renya was lost in the clear blue eyes of the Orlesian bard in front of her. How had she never noticed Leliana’s eyes were the same color as the sky on an autumn day?

“Leliana…” she whispered. “Please… stop…”

Her words fell on deaf ears as Leliana’s fingers worked under the now-loosened armor, and pushed their way under the leather and the warm under-tunic onto Renya’s skin. She smiled as she felt the elf’s hands come to rest on her waist, and rubbed against the elf slightly, pulling a soft hum from Renya’s throat. It was fitting, too, that the movement teased Leliana nearly as much. Renya’s hands lowered to the bard’s hips.

“Lelia…” the elf said again breathlessly. “Don’t…”

Leliana heard the pet name and her heart fluttered a little, but she continued, her hand slowly caressing its way around Renya’s body until she began tracing abstract patterns on her back. The elf shivered.

“You have teased me for _so long,_ ” the bard said, elongating the last two words dramatically. She leaned in and hovered millimeters from Renya’s lips. She watched as Renya licked her lips nervously, and waited until she leaned forward to pull away, smiling at Renya’s frustrated sigh. “Like that,” she murmured, leaning in again and starting to kiss Renya’s neck. She hovering, waiting, as she continued to caress Renya’s ear and trace patterns on her back.

“I… Lelia…”

“You want this…” Leliana whispered, her lips just missing Renya’s as she spoke.

“…Yes…”

“You _want_ this,” the bard murmured again, more suggestively. “Don’t you?”

“Yes.” It was true. Here, now, this was what Renya wanted, and her heart broke and thrilled at the idea. “Yes,” she breathed again, even as part of her brain was trying to tell her to stop.

Leliana smiled. Suddenly, Renya’s hands left her hips and were gripping her shoulders. The elf pressed back against her body, and green eyes were boring into her blue ones.

“No…no!” Renya said urgently. She closed her eyes and shook her head quickly, gripping Leliana’s shoulders more tightly. “Not like this…” she added without thinking.

But Leliana was intent on maintaining control. She leaned into her again, pinning her to the tree once more. “Like what? Unexpected? Willing? Forceful?” she offered, each word silkier than the last, drawing swirls on the top of Renya’s ears.

“Up against a tree in the middle of the woods,” Renya answered helplessly. She took a ragged breath. One selfish act wouldn’t be so wrong, would it? _No,_ said another voice. _Not like this, not with Leliana…_ “You don’t deserve… You don’t…”

_She is just like Marjolaine…_ Leliana rubbed her nose against Renya’s cheek. _You are inconvenient, and will be left behind… You are broken, unloveable. Marjolaine turned her back on you so easily, and now, so does this elf… You know what to do… You must do it_ first…

“What don’t I deserve?” Leliana said dangerously, leaning her head in again, pressing her hips against the elf’s.

_Me…_ Renya answered silently. _Someone who has her own secrets._ “This…” Renya breathed, unaware of the treacherous thoughts engulfing Leliana’s mind. She blinked as if clearing her thoughts. “You deserve…” Her mind went briefly to the beautiful, soft, protected clearing she had shown Merrill so many years ago, now seeming farther away then ever.

Leliana continued to tease the elf, her fingers rubbing the back of the pointed ears delicately while she pressed more of her body against Renya. _She is putty in your hands now, Leliana._

“You deserve… tapestries on the walls, and colored glass windows. And fireplaces, and flowers, and fine clothes, and being inside and…” She racked her brain for anything else Leliana had ever said she liked, not noticing that there was something cool pressing onto her back as she stared intensely into the blue eyes in front of her.

_Do what you came here to do, pretty thing._

“And a _bed._ A nice, soft one, like the one you had in Orlais, with cotton sheets, ones so nice you could not wait to get into them. That is what you deserve, Lelia…”

_We are the same…_

A clang caught both of their attention. Still somewhat entangled with each other, they looked down to see a very small dagger, small enough to fit up a sleeve, lying on the stones at Renya’s feet. The elf looked at Leliana with a small frown, not understanding.

“Leliana…?”

Leliana pulled away, looking horrified. “No, no, I am not like her,” she said, staring at the knife.

“I know you are not,” Renya replied, not sure what she was talking about. She reached down and picked up the blade.

“We’re different. I would not do that. I _am_ different, I _am!_ ”

“You are different, Leliana. You are… you are like no one else,” Renya replied soothingly, advancing toward the retreating bard. She held out the knife in her open palm, handle toward Leliana. Leliana looked at the knife and then up into Renya’s face, full of shame. Renya noticed how sickly she looked.

“Come,” Renya said gently. She took another slow step forward, as if trying to not scare away a frightened animal. She lowered the hand with the knife and offered her empty one. “Let me take you back to your tent…”

“No, no! Get away from me! You must stay away!” Leliana turned and ran back to her tent, throwing the flap aside and diving inside. From where she stood, Renya could hear Leliana’s sobbing. She glanced back at the knife still in her hand and sighed, returning to her patrol and fastening her armor tightly around herself once again. She slipped the small knife into her belt with a shake of her head.

***

Leliana sat in her tent, curled up into a small ball in her bedroll.

She may have lost Renya to Nyviel, she told herself firmly, but she would not betray Renya the way Marjolaine had betrayed her. Marjolaine had seduced her, and then turned on her. She had feared that Leliana would betray her, and acted first. Leliana shook her head. She would not do that. She was different.

***

_“So… you think this is an… acceptable place?” Renya asked._

_Merrill gestured at the nature around them. “Of course. Who wouldn’t love it here?”_

_“You really think so, lethallan?”_

_“I do,” Merrill said earnestly. “Whoever you bond yourself to will love it,” she finished carefully, touching Renya’s shoulder lightly. A small smile crept across Renya’s face and Merrill mirrored it._

_Renya turned and smiled at the babbling brook as Merrill walked over to a patch of daisies, stooping to smell them with a serene look on her face. A soft sound caught Renya’s attention and she turned to see Leliana standing behind her, looking at her sadly._

_“You want this, don’t you?”_

Renya jolted awake with a gasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all probably hate me right now, but this is one of my favorite scenes, if not my favorite, of the whole tale. Actually, this is the scene that prompted me to write the whole story, if that's at all interesting to you :)
> 
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	54. To Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynne recommends Leliana be left behind. The companions leave for Haven, meet some angry villagers, and stumble across a friendly face unexpectedly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Morrigan asked when she found Renya staring at the sunrise the next day. Renya looked up at the witch.

“I did not think you would want me to talk to you about personal problems.”

“I do not,” Morrigan agreed. “But that is another condition of friendship, is it not? To listen to a person even if you are not interested at all in what they have to say?”

Renya sat thoughtfully for a few moments. “I do not think anyone has ever said it like that before.”

“So, if I listen to your… personal problems, as you say, I will have fulfilled this obligation of friendship,” Morrigan stated.

“Thank you, Morrigan. But maybe not right now,” Renya said. Morrigan nodded, thinking.

“I believe I am now to offer that you can come and talk to me at any time, if your young elf friend is to be believed. But ‘tis a ridiculous thing to say, as sometimes I may be sleeping or involved in doing something else and will not be able to listen to you talk. But, regardless, if you would like to talk and I am not otherwise engaged, I will listen,” the witch told her.

The elf smiled. “Ma serannas, lethallan.”

Morrigan nodded, satisfied with the conversation, and joined Alistair, who was talking to Zevran. Renya rose and stretched, looking down at the little blade she had held all night. Shaking her head again, she tucked it into her belt and adjusted her armor. They were going to go up to Haven today, and she wanted to move out as soon as everyone was ready.

Alistair, Zevran, and Nyviel stood talking to each other, and Morrigan was squinting at the mountain. Wynne exited Leliana’s tent and approached the group.

“She is much better, but still sleeping,” Wynne said. She looked at Renya. “I would leave her here, as disappointing as that will be for her. She could benefit from more rest, and it would be cruel to wake her. She looks like she didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“Thank you, Wynne,” Renya said. She waited until the mage had wished them luck and returned to her tent before turning to the others.

“Go on ahead. I will be right there.”

“But,” Alistair protested.

“Come on,” Nyviel interjected, grabbing his arm and tugging him away. Renya watched the four go before turning around and approaching Leliana’s tent. She twisted the ring on her finger and clenched her jaw a few times, remembering the feeling of Leliana’s hands on her skin and the clang of the knife hitting the rocks.

“Leliana?” Renya called softly outside the flap. There was no respose. Tightening her jaw again, Renya pulled aside the flap and entered the tent. Leliana was lying curled up in her bedroll, her eyes squinted shut, feigning sleep very poorly.

“Why are you not in your armor, ready to go?” Renya asked simply. Leliana’s eyes sprung open.

“You… you want me to go with you?” she asked in disbelief. The elf’s expression was blank. Even the twinkle was gone from her eyes. The elf subconsciously shook her head and Leliana’s throat tightened.

“I promised you,” Renya said without emotion.

“But, I…”

Renya offered her the little knife, and Leliana stared at it, looking horrified and ashamed again. “Promise _me_ something now?”

“What is it?” Leliana whispered, still staring at the blade.

“If you are going to stab me, at least kiss me for real, first,” the Warden commented dryly. “I want the pain to be worth it.”

Leliana looked up in time to see Renya turn and leave the tent.

“Hurry up,” the Warden called gruffly. “Everyone else is already on their way.”

The bard got up, staring in disbelief at the place Renya had knelt. She slowly picked up the little knife that she had left behind, shaking her head and putting it down again. After putting on her armor, Leliana paused and grabbed the knife again, but then reconsidered, throwing it back on top of her bedroll. She was different.

***

“The Chantry sister will be making the journey with us after all,” Morrigan observed sometime later when Renya and Leliana had joined them. She looked at the Warden, studying her.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Leliana,” Nyviel said, smiling at the bard. “We were all worried about you, especially Renya,” she added in a whisper. Leliana glanced at Renya, who was not looking at anyone as she marched up to the front of the procession with Alistair. Morrigan joined them, talking about the route she and Renya had found when they were scouting.

“I know you care for her,” Nyviel said softly. Leliana looked at her incredulously.

“And you do not?”

The younger elf frowned in confusion at the icy tone. “Of course I do. I…” She faded to a stop when she saw the irritated look on Leliana’s face. “She’s brave, loyal, not afraid of anything… I wish I was like her.” She sighed.

“Well, you have the benefit of her company now, at any rate,” Leliana said dully.

Nyviel brightened. “Yes, I do.” She smiled at Leliana, not understanding why the bard looked so upset. “I always wondered what it would have been like to have a sister to look up to. Before going to the Circle, I mean.”

Leliana blinked. “Sister?”

“Yes,” Nyviel replied, her smile drooping a little. “I was young when I was taken to the Circle, and I always wondered what it would have been like if I stayed with my family. I’m the oldest. I have a little brother, but he was still a baby when I left. I never really got to know him…” she finished sadly. “I’m glad I met you and Renya… all of you, really. It’s like having a family again.”

Suddenly Leliana felt terrible. All this time, the elves were merely acting as… _kin? Maker…_

“I almost stabbed her for that…?”

“What?” Of course Nyviel was able to hear the mortified whisper.

“I… I thought she… and you… Nyviel, I’m so sorry, I feel so terrible…”

The younger elf narrowed her eyes at the bard. “Wait… Are you – are you _jealous_ of me?” She started laughing. “I never thought anyone would ever be jealous of me! Let alone someone like… well, like you.” She shook her head, still grinning. “But you don’t need to feel jealous, Leliana.” The rest of what Leliana said sank in. Nyviel frowned. “And you probably shouldn’t stab her, either way.”

“I… was fevered, and I thought…” Leliana began awkwardly.

“Nyviel!” came Renya’s voice sharply from the front. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

Leliana sighed in relief as Nyviel joined the other three at the front. The bard followed.

“It’s a hex, but not one I have ever come across at the Circle,” Nyviel murmured, studying the mark on the ground.

“Can you disperse it?” Alistair asked.

“Yes, Alistair believes my attempt was insufficient proof that nothing can be done about it,” Morrigan sniffed.

Nyviel closed her eyes and reached out, murmuring. She opened them a minute later, shaking her head grimly. “Morrigan’s right. We’ll have to just go around it. The only area affected is the place that is actually marked.”

“’Tis my thought,” Morrigan said. She continued with a mocking tone: “But yes, perhaps the opinion of an elf from the Circle will now be better received than that of a…” The witch trailed off, glancing at Renya. The elf was glaring at her with a disapproving eyebrow raised. “An apostate,” she finished lamely. Renya looked away.

“Shall we continue?” was all she said.

The little party carefully circumnavigated the marking, with Morrigan and Nyviel now leading. Renya fell into step next to Leliana, but didn’t say anything to her, concentrating on where her feet were falling.

Forty-five torturous, slow minutes later, they reached a clearing with nothing in it but a mutilated human body.

“Poor man,” Leliana said sadly. “Maker take his soul.”

“I don’t like this,” Alistair commented darkly. “Something bad is going on here…”

They moved on silently, each step more cautious than the last. They finally made their way up to the little village. Renya’s ears twitched, and she and Zevran dove at the same time, knocking Leliana and Morrigan out of the way. They were just in time; an arrow buzzed past them and buried in a tree at about head-height. The Warden steadied the bard before pulling out her swords. Zevran followed her lead, glaring at the clearing ahead of them.

“Who goes there?” called the guard Renya and Morrigan had seen the day before.

“We are seeking safe passage through the town,” Alistair called back, signaling for Renya to put away her weapons. Reluctantly she obeyed. “And,” he added, trying to play on the man’s sympathies, “we would like to purchase supplies. We have traveled a long way.”

The guard grunted at them. “Don’t make trouble. We don’t like outsiders. And control your elves.”

Nyviel frowned, and Renya pinched the bridge of her nose. Zevran stood with his arms crossed, shaking his head. Renya hated that there was no retribution for this kind of treatment. Leliana placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, and the elf relaxed. She took her bow off her back and handed it to Leliana.

“We never replaced your other one. If there is trouble, stay back and cover us,” Renya said. Leliana took the bow.

“I’ll be careful with it.”

Renya nodded. “If it can survive me for so many years, it can survive you for one day,” she said, forcing a small smile. Leliana tried to return it but, for the first time, found she couldn’t.

They entered a building that looked to be a shop.

“Emm’atisha?” Renya called. “Is there anyone…” Her voice trailed off as she saw what looked like an altar in the corner, wet with blood.

“Ugh,” Alistair said with a shudder. “I’d hate to know what was on that altar that had so much blood in it.”

“Perhaps human blood?” Morrigan offered, peering at it closely and looking disgusted.

“Human blood?” Nyviel asked, her voice higher than usual. Zevran looked at her with concern.

“Let’s leave,” Renya said uncomfortably. “There is nothing for us here.”

As they exited the building, they heard voices calling at them, coming down the far hill. A mob of people, complete with torches, swords, and farming tools, was advancing on them. The soldier from the entrance to the village was leading them.

“There they are! Kill them!” he yelled.

Renya, at the front of the group, raised her empty hands in front of her. “We mean you no harm. Ar’din nuvenin na’din. I do not want to hurt you…”

Leliana ducked into a shadow behind a building and notched an arrow into the bow. She blinked; her vision was hazier than usual, and she briefly wondered if Wynne had been right and she should have stayed in the camp to rest. She watched as Renya backed up, hands still outstretched, trying to stop the approaching villagers. With a jolt, Leliana saw men, women, and even children, armed and angry.

A meat cleaver hurled out from the crowd, narrowly missing Zevran. With that, the fight was on. The Warden’s party was vastly outnumbered, and Leliana tried to pick off as many as she could from the shadows. Her motions became more frantic as the people continued to pour down the hill. Where had they all come from?

Renya went down, a shovel smashing her legs out from under her. The wind was knocked out of her as she landed, and she stared helplessly at the man above her as he raised the shovel to chop off her head. Out of nowhere, Alistair appeared above her, bashing the man with his shield and running him through with his sword.

Leliana watched in horror as the elf went down. Zevran noticed, too, and looked torn; he was standing near the two mages trying to defend them, but he kept shooting worried glances over at the fallen Warden. The bard aimed another arrow. Renya would be fine. She fired, hitting a man holding a pitchfork. She would be safe, as long as Alistair stood strong and proud above her. Another arrow flew, killing another villager. Easily, she fitted another arrow and loosed it.

Her head was spinning and she could hear blood pumping in her ears. She fell to one of her knees and aimed another arrow. Renya would be fine, she promised to bring her to the ashes… her arrow missed. Trying to clear her head, she aimed another one, but something was wrong with her vision. Everything was blurry, and the ground usually did not bubble like water. She fired, not sure if she hit her target or not. Weakly she tried to fit another arrow to the bow…

The next thing she knew, the village was silent, except for an annoying buzzing sound. The buzzing grew louder and louder, until she was able to make out the word being repeating over and over.

“Leliana? …Leliana!” Renya called sharply. The bard opened her eyes and saw five faces all looking down at her with concern. She sat up, groaning.

“What happened?”

“…We won,” Nyviel offered when no one else spoke.

“We should send the Chantry sister back,” Morrigan was muttering to Alistair. “She is far too ill.”

“But we will lose more time doing that, and we can’t send her by herself…” Alistair said, rubbing his chin.

“So we shall leave her here. We have killed the villagers…”

“But what if there are more who are simply lying in wait?” Zevran asked. “We cannot leave her alone and defenseless…”

Renya remained crouched on the ground, watching Leliana breathe. “I want to see the ashes…” Leliana murmured weakly. Renya nodded and rose, pulling Leliana to her feet. She waited until she was steady before removing her hands.

“Then let us keep moving.” She offered her arm politely to Leliana, who turned her head away. Sighing, Renya set off up the hill, not watching to see if anyone went with her. Alistair followed without comment, Morrigan on his heels.

“’Tis foolish to put your faith in things unseen, but ‘tis more foolish to put faith in a person’s wishes over their abilities,” the witch muttered, shaking her head.

“Come, my dear,” Zevran said, offering his arm gallantly to Leliana. “I will help guide you up the hill.”

“Here, Leliana, drink this.” Nyviel offered her a vial with something red in it. “It’ll help.”

Leliana, leaning on Zevran, gripped it limply. Nyviel watched her and grabbed the vial as it began to slip from her fingers. “Here…” she said softly, raising the glass to the bard’s lips. Leliana drank deeply, and the color returned to her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice sounding stronger. She stood up a little straighter. Zevran didn’t release his grasp on her as they began walking. Nyviel tucked the empty vial back in her shoulder-bag, hoping her supply of health potions wouldn’t run out before they returned to camp.

***

“What is this place?” Renya asked as they reached a dark-looking building at the top of the hill.

“It looks like a Chantry,” Alistair murmured, frowning. “But not nearly as inviting.”

Renya suppressed a smile. No Chantry ever looked inviting to her.

“Ah, so everyone is within the Chantry? How lovely for them…” Morrigan said with an eye-roll.

“Well, there seems to be no other way to go,” Renya said before Alistair or Leliana could respond. “Shall we go in and see what the Revered Mother has to say?”

Alistair pushed open the doors gently and the group entered. Faithful knelt in front of a man, who was preaching to them loudly as the congregation rocked, murmuring.

“And the Maker took Andraste unto Himself, as…” His voice faded when he saw the armed guests enter. He cleared his throat. “We are in the middle of a service,” he said forcefully. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Please, continue,” Renya said, her eyes oddly bright. “We do not wish to interrupt. We are simply looking for the Revered Mother.”

A shocked murmur trickled through the gathered faithful.

“There is no Revered Mother here,” the man growled. “I am Father Eirik, a Disciple of Andraste.”

“No Revered Mother?” Leliana asked with a frown, walking forward and standing next to Renya. “That is unheard of.”

“We keep the old customs here, woman,” Eirik commented dismissively. “Go back to your homes,” he added, addressing the congregation. “We will reconvene after the evening meal.”

“But, Father Eirik…” one of the faithful protested.

“It is alright. We cannot have outsiders seeing our customs. I will get them to leave,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“The leaders of the Chantry are women,” Leliana persisted as the congregation filed out of the building. “In honor of Andraste…”

“Silence!” Eirik yelled, his voice echoing around the stones. “Do not question my loyalty to Andraste!”

“You have led this Chantry for a long time?” Renya asked. The man’s face turned red.

“We at Haven remember the old ways, and we will not change. I have led this Chantry my whole life, as my father did before me,” he said, glaring at her. “And I will not be questioned by some knife-ear.” He made a signal, and four armed guards approached them, swords drawn. Renya drew her own, standing in front of Leliana.

“Stay behind me,” she whispered over her shoulder, backing them up to a wall.

“Another battle, I see,” Morrigan commented.

The fight was short and direct. Soon, the guards lay dead on the floor, and Eirik lay slumped over by the alter, clutching his necklace protectively, his eyes no longer seeing the lap he was staring at.

“What are you hiding, shemlen?” Renya muttered, pulling the necklace off of the dead man. It was an intricately carved stone. Raising an eyebrow, she pocketed it. If the man had died holding it, it must be important.

“Now what?” Alistair said, looking around the room. “There’s nowhere to go.”

Renya sighed as she rose, scanning the room. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing at a wall that looked newer than the rest of the stonework. She walked over and laid her hand against it. It slid aside, making her jump.

“I guess we go this way,” she said, looking at Alistair with a shrug. The other Warden walked through the door, sword and shield at the ready, followed by Zevran and the mages. Renya walked over to where Leliana was still standing. “Are you okay?”

“This place…” she said with a shudder. “It feels… so empty. If the ashes are here, I would have expected, I don’t know, more.”

“Well, we have not found them yet. Come. Can you walk?” Renya said, placing a hand on Leliana’s back. Leliana nodded, pulling away from Renya a little. “Leliana, do not be stubborn, let me help you,” she said, not looking at her.

Leliana shook her head and slowly walked to the room behind the secret door. They joined the little group in a book-lined room and found a man lying on the ground. His breathing was shallow.

“Hello?” he said weakly, struggling to sit up.

“Are you Brother Genetivi?” Renya asked. The man startled as he looked at her, but nodded.

“You are not one of the villagers,” he commented. “Thank the Maker. How did you find me?”

“You left a very detailed map…” Renya said.

“I see. Weylon must have helped you; he always believed in me, never thought I was crazy. He’s a good man… what is it?” Genetivi asked, seeing Renya and Alistair’s grim looks.

“Weylon was being impersonated by someone else,” Renya said gently. “Weylon…”

Genetivi bowed his head. “I see.” He sighed. “So he died trying to protect my research. I must visit his family when I return to Denerim. But you haven’t told me why you are here. It is too much to hope that you just happened across a long-forgotten Chantry building in a little-known village in the corner of Ferelden.”

Alistair and Renya looked at each other, wondering how much of the truth to tell.

“Please, Brother Genetivi,” came Leliana’s voice weakly from behind Renya. She stepped forward slowly. “We are seeking the ashes, like you. We wish to not only revere them, but to pray for healing for a friend of ours who could not make the journey with us.”

“I understand, child,” Genetivi said gently, seeing the condition she was in. “Andraste welcomes all. Yes, you too, my friend,” he added kindly, seeing Renya’s disbelief. “Regardless of what the Divine and the Chantry would have us believe, I think we are all equal in the eyes of the Maker.” He groaned as he tried to stand up.

“My apologies,” he said with a grimace. “My feet were hurt on my journey here, and the villagers were less than kind to me. Bread, water, and beatings,” he muttered to himself. “My ankle, I think, is sprained,” he added with another cringe of pain. “The villagers do not take kindly to outsiders,” he commented again. He looked up with a shake of his head. “But the Temple of Andraste’s Ashes is just up the side of this mountain, and I can take you there. You… didn’t happen to find a key, did you? Eirik would have had it, either a token or something similar, possibly made of stone…”

“This?” Renya asked, pulling the necklace from her pocket. Brother Genetivi studied it carefully, then nodded with a kind smile.

“That is exactly it. Nothing stands in our way now, short of the Temple itself.” He heaved himself off the ground.

“Here, Brother, let me help you,” Nyviel said, crouching at the man’s feet. Genetivi watched as the mage murmured and waved her hand over his ankles and breathed a sigh of relief when she was done.

“Thank you. That feels much better. Although I would have risked the mountain in my poor condition just to find the Urn…” he said, looking wistful and determined all at the same time. “Are you finished here? Let us go. I have waited decades for this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the conversation Morrigan and Renya have about friendship :)
> 
> Also, thank the creators Nyviel has such good hearing, yes? There's one issue resolved finally.
> 
> Translations:  
> Emm'atisha - _emma_ means "I" or "I am" and "atisha" means peace. So this would literally be translation as "I come in peace" (since Dalish greetings include "andaran atishan," or "I welcome you to this place of peace). But since Dalish isn't a "literal" language, "emm'atisha" is used like we would call "Hello?" into a presumed-empty house.
> 
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	55. Forward Movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions begin their journey through the not-so-abandoned Temple of Andraste.

“I’m fine, Renya,” Leliana insisted as they walked up the mountain behind the Chantry. She pulled away from the guiding hand on her back and shook her arm free of Renya’s grasp. “I can walk myself.”

The Warden looked at her seriously. “At least let me-”

“No.” The bard was firm; every time she looked at Renya, guilt crashed through her. She didn’t deserve the elf. And she didn’t deserve to be brought to the ashes; she should have been left in the camp… The fact that Renya still brought her, despite having every reason not to, made Leliana feel nauseous and hopeful, and then nauseous again.

Renya shook her head with a sigh and walked back to the front of the group to where Alistair and Brother Genetivi were talking.

“You could be a little nicer to her, you know,” Nyviel said with a frown as she fell into step beside Leliana. “She’s only trying to help.”

“I don’t need help. I am perfectly capable of walking,” Leliana replied stiffly. She was walking a little faster than before, but still with the careful walk of someone who was afraid of falling.

The younger elf rolled her eyes. “I can see that. Just keep in mind that you tried to stab her and she’s still bringing you to see the ashes.”

Leliana was silent, staring straight ahead. Nyviel decided to press her point.

“And do you know what she told me?” she asked. “She told me that the only reason she’s bringing you is because she promised you back in Denerim. Back in Denerim. How long ago was that?” She crossed her arms. “She’s been so concerned for your health, but didn’t want to break her promise, because ‘Dalish do not do that,’” she said, trying to imitate Renya’s accent. Leliana shook her head.

Nyviel frowned at her. “You are a Chantry sister. She doesn’t care. You told her you were an assassin. She doesn’t care. She almost had her ear cut off because of you. She doesn’t care. She was almost stabbed to death because of you. She doesn’t care. _You_ almost stabbed her, and she _still doesn’t care,_ ” she hissed. “What _does_ she do? Protect you. Believe in you. Bring you to see Andraste’s ashes for no good reason other than because you asked, once, a long time ago. The least you could do is be polite to her now,” the elf finished in a huff. She scoffed in disbelief when Leliana still didn’t respond, and then stalked away, leaving Leliana to walk alone with her thoughts.

Meanwhile, at the front of the procession, Renya was enjoying listening to Brother Genetivi talk about the Chantry, Andraste, and her ashes. Leliana watched her, not believing how interested the elf was in Genetivi’s conversation.

“I know that religious dogma can be interpreted and changed to suit political needs,” Genetivi was saying. He glanced at the vallaslin on Renya’s forehead. “For instance, why was there a need for the Chantry to call an Exalted March on the Dalish? They served with Andraste to overthrow the Tevinter Imperium; she promised them freedom, and they earned it. But because one Divine wanted a Chantry built in the Dales, well… I can’t imagine what your travels have been like, ser.” He shook his head.

“I didn’t expect a brother of the Chantry to be so…?” Renay began.

Genetivi smiled. “Objective? But I am a scholar. It is the only way to learn things: by being non-judgmental.”

“I am glad to hear you say that,” Renya said approvingly. She had found another human that she decided she liked. The elf chuckled to herself. The number was probably close to ten now… Not bad for months of traveling and hundreds of humans, she thought wryly.

Renya listened with interest as Genitivi chatted lovingly about the history of Andraste’s ashes and the legends that sprung up around them over the ages.

“And no one has sought the ashes before now?” Renya asked when he paused for breath.

Genetivi shook his head. “Many have, and many have perished in the search. But, many are not patient, and send soldiers on quests based on hearsay and guesses, instead of years of research. My apologies, I flatter myself…” he said. Renya chuckled.

“So what awaits us in this temple? I imagine the Ashes aren’t just inside the front door,” Alistair commented.

“If my research is correct, the Urn of Sacred Ases is protected by a number of spells and traps call the Gauntlet, although some say that it is the Maker’s eye that protects the Urn…” Genetivi said with a little shrug.

“You do not believe that?” Renya asked.

Genetivi chuckled. “I think that is more pleasant to believe, and more palatable to hear, than what is probably the truth,” he said. “After all, no one wants to hear: ‘Willy toiled for many a year to perfect the mechanisms that would send a sharpened spike up the arse of the unwary intruder.’ It doesn’t quite have the same ring, does it?”

Renya laughed. “No, I suppose not. What do you know of these spells?”

“Not much, I’m afraid,” Genetivi said, looking at her seriously. “But they are made to keep out those that are not worthy. At one time, the Disciples of Andraste helped to guard the ashes, but they have… lost their way. I would look out for them, if I were you,” he said as an aside. “But,” he said, brightening. “There was a passage in one of the books that I read… how some of Andraste’s followers gave their lives to the fire, to become Her eternal guardians. Isn’t that beautiful?”

Images of burnt humans wielding swords at the unwanted traveler filled Renya’s mind. She supposed Genetivi’s description was nice as poetry, but disturbing as reality. “I… yes, it is admirable to die for a cause you believe in,” she said carefully.

Morrigan scoffed. “Sounds perfectly dreadful to me.”

Genetivi ignored her. They had reached an old stone building with sealed doors. “This is it,” he said with reverence. He took the stone necklace Renya had given him and twisted it; to her astonishment, it became the shape of a key, which the brother fitted easily into a small hole. With a soft click the doors swung open on their hinges easily.

The inside of the temple was breathtaking. True, it was in ruins, but long columns reached up into the arched stone ceiling of the enormous room. At one time the paintings above them would have shown brightly colored depictions of Andraste’s life and ascension to the Maker’s side. As they were now, they seemed as ghosts of their original images, adding to the sadness of the deserted building. Snow had fallen inside where the ceiling had collapsed, and the wind had created drifts along the walls. The party fell silent as they each tentatively walked into the room, all gazing around in wonder.

“What does it say?” Renya asked, tracing her fingers along a carving on one of the walls.

“Here lies the abyss, the well of souls,” Leliana read, coming up behind her. Renya looked at her with mild surprise. The bard continued as if she hadn’t noticed. “From these eternal waters doth life begin anew. Come to me, child, and I will embrace you. In my arms lies eternity.” She sighed, a small smile on her face. “It’s from the Chant of Light, the Canticle of Andraste,” Leliana explained, looking at Renya sadly. The elf nodded once.

“Oh.”

“The Urn will be further in,” Brother Genetivi commented. He, too, was staring at the carvings with wonder on his face. “I will stay here and study these markings and statues. They were made soon after Andraste’s death. They may reveal things that we may not yet know…” he said, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Be careful, and please bring back any questions you have or anything interesting you may find.”

“Are you sure you would not prefer to come with us? The villagers…” Renya commented from where she was standing.

“I could not keep up with you as much as I might like to,” Genetivi said heavily. “I should be safe. There are no villagers up here. Go, it will be alright,” he insisted. “Perhaps my destiny has been only to lead you to the Urn.” He smiled at the elf.

They took their leave of him and began picking their way across the snow-covered stones, past a great pyre burning in the center of the room.

“Where do we go?” Alistair murmured. Renya shrugged.

“Forward, I would imagine,” she said, nodding at the great door beyond the short flight of stairs in front of them.

The door was locked. Renya knelt and began to pick the lock with no luck. She looked at Zevran with a shrug.

“Is it my turn?” he asked kindly, taking the tools from her. He worked at the lock for a while before he, too, stood and stared at the lock with bemusement.

“Leliana?” he said, turning to the bard. “You are our last hope for this.”

“Of course,” Leliana replied, kneeling, keenly aware of the entire party watching her. A few silent minutes of tinkering passed before she admitted defeat as well.

“So now what?” Nyviel asked.

“Perhaps this way?” Morrigan suggested innocently, pointing toward the open door to their left.

“You couldn’t have pointed that out before?” Alistair asked.

“You seemed intent on getting through this door. Had I known you would have preferred any forward movement, I may have mentioned it,” she told him with a smile.

“Any forward movement would be great, just so everyone knows,” Renya said flatly before striding over to the western corridor. A low grumble echoed off the stones and the party drew their weapons warily, looking around for the source of the sound.

Three very angry villagers appeared, outfitted with armor, bows and arrows, and swords, and began attacking the party. Soon, a large plated animal with horns crashed into the little space as well, and the Warden’s party found itself pushed back, fighting frantically against the beast while trying to dodge arrows. Out of the side of her eye, Renya saw Leliana dart around the animal and she followed. The bard easily dodged the one archer and slashed at him. He crumpled at her feet in time for another man to jump at her with his sword thrust out. Leliana jumped back as he lurched forward. A very angry-looking elf had appeared on his back.

“Bellanaris din’an heem,” the elf growled, stabbing him. She jumped off him and landed lightly next to the bard, giving her a look. Without saying anything, she spun and dove at the other archer, surprising him and knocking the bow from his hands. Leliana was on him a moment later, and soon all the archers were slain. They rejoined the fight against the huge animal, and soon it, too, lay dead.

“Great. The abandoned temple isn’t so abandoned after all…” Alistair grumbled.

“Warden, if I may make a suggestion?” Zevran said, tucking his daggers back into his belt. She nodded as they continued walking into another room, this one dominated by enormous statues of humans that Renya didn’t recognize, but Alistair and Leliana seemed very interested in.

“It seems that this is not to be a simple, pleasant walk from here to the ashes, and…” His eyes darted toward Leliana, who was now leaning on one of the statues, catching her breath.

“Yes, that is how it seems,” Renya replied. She was tired of people hinting at her about problems and neither speaking their minds fully nor having a solution for their concerns. While she had long accepted her place as leader, however reluctantly, she was still only one small elf in the middle of a very large Blight.

“Have you perhaps thought about…?”

She stared at him, waiting for him to finish his thought. He sighed.

“What is your plan, Renya?” he asked softly. “You must see she is very weak.”

Renya shook her head. “I have no plan. She should not be here, Zevran.”

“Ah,” he said with a smile. “Your heart has chosen an odd time to overrule your duty, my lovely Warden. Yes?”

“I promised her. You of all of us should know how highly an elf holds their spoken vows,” she said lightly while her green eyes bore into his brown. He held the gaze for a few moments before nodding heavily.

“Yes, you are right, of course,” he agreed quietly. “But we can only protect her so much. If you ask it, I will lay down my life for you or any one of our party, but I cannot ensure that would offer her safety for the long-term.”

“I will not order you to die for anyone, Zevran,” the Warden replied seriously. “Your life is your own.” He looked pleased at her words and was about to reply when she continued. “I will ensure her safety. It was my decision to allow her to come, and I will assume responsibility for it.”

“But what if-?”

“Renya?” Alistair called. “Do you want to take a look at this?” They had walked down another corridor and entered a smaller room. Alistair, Leliana, Morrigan, and Nyviel were all standing around a stone chest that looked like it had been broken open.

“What is it?” Renya asked when she and Zevran joined them. The other Warden opened his palm. In it lay a small black pearl. He also offered her a long brass candle taper. She looked at the items and shrugged, shaking her head.

“I have no idea what those are,” she said. Nyviel took the pearl from Alistair and looked at it.

“I remember reading something about the devoted taking a black pearl in their mouths before death, before giving themselves over to the ‘fires of Andraste,’” she said with some interest. She shuddered. “It feels so… cold and lifeless. I don’t like it.” The elf handed the little pearl back to Alistair.

“They put a pearl in their mouths to light a fire?” Renya asked. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Nyviel replied. “But we should probably take these, just in case.”

“No!” yelled a voice behind them. They all spun and saw an old man raising his staff before shooting a ball of light at them. Luckily they all dove out of the way in time. Renya rose and felt her whole body grow warm as she heard Morrigan muttering something behind her. She darted toward the mage, whose spells seemed to be repelling off of her, and threw her dar’misu at him. It buried in his chest, but he continued to cast spells as if he hadn’t been struck. Before her eyes, he transformed into a horrible demon, its lanky arms connected to what looked like an open rib cage lined with teeth. Renya skidded to a stop as the creature shrieked, summoning more of its kind. The dar’misu fell to the floor and Renya was knocked backwards by a cloud the ash demon shot at her.

She looked up and saw Zevran standing above her, fighting off another demon that had swooped down on her as she fell. Drawing her longsword, she thrust it up into the demon’s chest cavity, and it exploded in a cloud of dust and smoke. Zevran helped the Warden to her feet before sprinting off to help fight the other demons. Leliana followed him, her gait unsteady, and Renya, shaking her head, ran to help the determined bard.

“I… I can do it,” she gasped.

“Glandival ma vhenan’ara,” Renya murmured, forcibly pushing Leliana toward the side of the room. “I only want what is best for you.” She stood in front of the bard, took her bow back from her, and began firing at the demons. The arrows didn’t seem to have any effect.

“Here, Renya.” Nyviel, standing near her, murmured something while reaching toward the bow. The arrowheads became encased in ice. Renya looked at her in confusion.

“They gave themselves to the fire,” Nyviel managed to say before she turned and cast a spell at the demons, which seemed to be increasing in number. They were joined by armored men; the battle was getting ugly.

Without any more hesitation, Renya fit another arrow to her bow and fired. The younger elf had been right; the frozen arrows dealt a lot more damage to the demons.

“Renya…” Leliana’s quiet voice somehow cut through the pandemonium around them.

“Yes?” Renya fired another arrow at a demon that was bearing down on Alistair, and then two more at the armed men attacking him. She watched as Morrigan drained one of the demons of its energy, appearing to gain strength from it.

“I’m sorry,” the bard murmured. “I’m so sorry…”

“This is not really a good time,” Renya commented, firing three arrows in rapid succession at an oncoming ash demon. It exploded right in front of them.

“I thought… I thought you and… and Nyviel…” Leliana continued in a whisper.

Another arrow, followed by a grunt.

“And then… all I could think about was Marjolaine, and her betrayal, and…”

“Atisha, Leliana,” Renya said, firing more arrows.

Finally the number of demons seemed to be waning, and the attacking humans lay dead on the floor. Nyviel ran to assist in the slaying of the final few monsters. The Warden turned to Leliana and pulled her to her feet. She removed the hunting knife from her belt and pressed it into the notch in the bottom of her neck, pointing the blade down toward her heart. In one swift movement, she grabbed Leliana’s hand and put it on the handle. Then she let go.

“As you feel remorse already, finish it,” Renya said, her head tilted back and her arms out in surrender. “Punish me for my actions. The creators know I deserve it, even more than you may realize.”

They stood like that for a few long seconds with Leliana holding the blade against Renya’s throat in shock. After a long pause, she withdrew the knife and handed it to Renya. The Warden took it back and replaced it in her belt.

“Ar lasa mala revas,” Renya said seriously. “I now free you of this guilt.” She was about to turn away when she checked herself.

“Tel’enfenim. Do not worry so much, falon. Melana’nehn enansal ir sa lethalin… I promise.”

“What does that mean?” Leliana asked, her eyesight growing blurry again.

“I told you, back in Lothering. Do you remember?”

“Ir tel’him…”

Renya smiled crookedly. She noticed the others walking over to where they were standing. “I will,” she promised. “When we are back at camp.”

“The good news is, I still have the pearl and the taper,” Alistair said, looking ashen. “The bad news is… I’ve lost a lot of blood… And there’s nothing quite like a near-death experience to make you… really not like death all that much.”

“Here, Alistair,” Nyviel said, pulling out another health potion. He took it and swallowed it in one gulp, instantly looking better.

“Your sword, Warden,” Zevran said, offering her back the dar’misu she had lost earlier.

“Ma serannas.” She tucked it back into her belt. “Onto the next room? I suppose we must find this brazier you talked about,” she commented, nodding at Nyviel. “Maybe it will help us find the Urn.” They had begun walking, and suddenly Renya stumbled. Leliana had lost her balance and fallen into the elf, grabbing her shoulders.

“Sorry…” she said, standing upright again and shaking her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed. Nyviel sighed and pulled out another vial.

“Here,” she said gently, helping Leliana drink the potion. While the bard didn’t look as obviously better as Alistair had, her coloring improved a little and she seemed steadier on her feet. Morrigan watched her carefully.

“I hope, should the situation arise, you live to regret this decision,” Morrigan said to Renya. Renya raised an eyebrow at her, annoyed. “What? ‘Tis better than not living. Is this not so?”

Renya sighed, rubbing her vallaslin. “Let’s just go. There is already much I regret. I do not wish to add this conversation to that list.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew.
> 
> So, what do you think of Renya's actions with Leliana?
> 
> Translations:  
> Bellanaris din'an heem: basically she's saying that she's going to kill him and send him to oblivion  
> Falon: friend; (not to be confused with lethallan/lin)  
> Melana’nehn enansal ir sa lethalin: Time will be the blessing/joy it once was (I use it in the story to mean "everything is going to be okay").  
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	56. The Disciples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group continues on, meeting a few interesting disciples of Andraste.

The next room was an abandoned library. Leliana brightened a little.

“I don’t think anyone will mind if I borrow a few books…” she said, perusing the shelves as they passed and selecting one with gold lettering on the spine and another, much thicker, leather tome. She caught Renya’s look. “Sorry…” she mumbled, adding the books to her pack. They left the library and slowly walked down the corridor into another cavernous room. It, too, was empty. Renya nudged Alistair.

“I do not like this,” she said.

“Neither do I.”

At the far end of the room was another door. This one appeared stuck, but Morrigan and Nyviel continued to examine it long after the others had begun searching for another way out of the room.

“Warden,” Morrigan’s voice echoed through the large hall. “This door is sealed by magic, and we can proceed through it, should you wish it.”

“You can do that?” Zevran asked, impressed.

“Of course. ‘Tis a simple spell,” Morrigan replied loftily.

“There is no other way out,” Renya commented. “Any way forward,” she added with a stiff smile. Morrigan turned her attention back to the door. Nyviel stepped back.

The witch began to murmur in a strange language, and the door started to glow. Morrigan’s murmurings became louder and louder, her speech echoing off the stones around them. The door was bathed in a blue and white light before it disappeared completely, opening into a grand central room. Morrigan stopped chanting and wiped her brow.

“There. ‘Tis a way forward,” she said evenly, glancing at Renya, who nodded in appreciation.

Pushing the door open, Renya stepped into a small, dark room. In the middle stood a bowl on a little altar, which looked as if it had once burned brightly.

“Is this the brazier?” Renya asked. The door behind them swung shut, leaving them in darkness. Banging on the door proved fruitless.

“I sure hope so,” mumbled Alistair from somewhere beside Renya.

“We are trapped,” Morrigan stated calmly. There was a little silence. “And I cannot get the spell to work to light the room. ‘Tis most interesting…” she added thoughtfully.

“Alistair, hand me the pearl,” Renya said.

“Here. It’s right in front of you, I think,” Alistair said. Renya grabbed the pearl and the taper he was offering her. She looked down at them - shadowy items barely visible in the dark - with a thoughtful frown.

“You know,” Leliana commented with a little humor. “It is very strange to see green, blue, and brown glints floating in the air. Even in this darkness you are able to see?”

“We are, my dear,” came Zevran’s voice. “Although I must admit this is a little dark even for my eyes.”

“Am I supposed to say anything, or just put this in my mouth and light a fire?” Renya asked, searching out Nyviel. The blue eyes blinked at her.

“I don’t think so…” Nyviel replied with a shrug.

“I suppose invoking Mythal to protect me now would be a bad idea?” Renya said wryly.

“Yes!” came Alistair and Leliana’s emphatic response. Renya chuckled. Taking a deep breath, she popped the pearl into her mouth. The taper lit itself.

It was terrible. Renya felt like she was dying, as if her life force was being sucked into the little gem in her mouth. She gasped for air, and in the dim light she watched as the altar began to sway in front of her. She gripped the edge of the stone and plunged the taper into the bowl. Instantly flames leaped up, filling the room with a warm glow, and the taper in her hand and the pearl in her mouth disappeared. Renya was panting, clutching the stone and staring at the fire.

“Are you alright?” Leliana asked.

“I’m fine,” Renya said, blinking hard. “That is not something I ever want to do again.”

Suddenly, a doorway glowed orange in front of them, opposite the way they had come in. Renya pushed herself off the altar and squeezed over to the door; the room narrowed like a funnel. She put her hand on the glowing symbols, and the door swung open silently. Tentatively, they entered the large, snow-filled room in front of them. The ceiling had collapsed in more areas here, and snow appeared to be falling.

“Uh oh…” Alistair mumbled.

In front of the group stood a row of burly men in black armor, watching their progress into the room.

“Greetings,” the one in the middle called out. “I am Father Kolgrim, leader of the Disciples of Andraste. And who are you, who have killed so many faithful and defiled our sacred temple?”

“Defiled?” Alistair said angrily.

“Faithful?” added Leliana, incensed.

“Andaran atish’an,” Renya said swiftly, stepping forward. She ignored the horrified looks on Alistair and Leliana’s faces. “We are travelers, here to revere Andraste…”

Father Kolgrim’s eyes did a familiar sweep up to the markings on her forehead. If he thought it was odd a Dalish elf came to worship Andraste, he didn’t show it. On the contrary, he smiled. Renya’s skin crawled at the expression.

“You have come to join us, sister?” he asked. “Then why have you killed so many of the faithful?”

“They did not think we were believers,” Renya lied smoothly. Although, she reasoned, there was probably much truth in that statement. She glanced around as the armed men shifted a little and the mages took their places behind the warriors. “They attacked us; they did not want us to reach the Urn.”

The look in Father Kolgrim’s eyes was hard to identify, but he held up his hand when he heard swords being drawn behind him. “You follow Andraste, sister? All of you?” he glanced around at the party. They all nodded, some with more discomfort than others.

“’Tis a… peaceful, loving faith that has brought us here,” Morrigan commented. She was trying to sound pleasant, but her words came across as sarcastic instead. Renya inwardly cringed.

“You follow the martyred Andraste, yes,” Father Kolgrim said, nodding with understanding. “It is no wonder the faithful attacked you, then, strangers.”

“Why is that?” Renya asked, her heart racing. Her ears twitched a little at a small sound coming from above them, but she kept her eyes trained on Kolgrim.

“Why, Andraste is alive!” he said, genuinely surprised at her question. “The prophet Andraste has overcome death itself and has returned to Her faithful in a form more radiant than you can imagine! Not even the Tevinter Imperium could hope to slay Her now!”

A roar echoed far away in the mountains. Kolgrim smiled. “The faithful should not have worried. You would not be able to hurt Her.”

“A dragon?” Leliana asked with annoyance. “You think Andraste returned as a dragon?” Nyviel tugged on her arm to quiet her. She had heard the same small sound as Renya and was trying to surreptitiously find its source.

“Silence!” bellowed Kolgrim. He took a deep breath and smiled again. “But we all walk in darkness, sister, before we find the Light,” he said knowingly to her.

“How dare-!”

“I don’t understand,” Renya interrupted as Nyviel yanked on Leliana’s arm again. “You follow Andraste, who is now a dragon?” She hoped her Dalish origin would earn her some leeway with the ignorance of her questions. It apparently worked. Kolgrim was surveying her thoughtfully.

“I appreciate your desire to learn more about the true Risen Andraste, especially as a heathen,” he said approvingly.

Renya warded off an impulsive jaw-clench.

“Yes, She has returned as a dragon, and we follow Her. We have taken in dragon blood to become strong like Her, and She has rewarded us!” His face darkened. “But it is not yet good enough. She is still bound by something, something that ties Her to Her former life. The Urn of Her Most Holy Ashes,” he said softly.

Whispers echoed around the cavern, and Renya’s heart beat a little harder. She had finally found the source of the sound: archers were standing hidden in the shadows of the second-floor balconies, their bows trained on her and her companions. Her eyes quickly darted onto Zevran, who was standing closest to her, and she saw him glancing up at the balconies as well.

“How is the Urn affecting her?” the Warden asked.

“Are we seriously-” Alistair cut in loudly before Nyviel stepped on his foot and shook her head almost imperceptibly.

“The ashes tie Andraste to Her weaker human form. They must be destroyed,” Kolgrim continued as if he hadn’t heard.

“Destroyed?” Leliana said indignantly. Morrigan elbowed her.

“Shut up,” the witch hissed out of the side of her mouth, watching Nyviel and Zevran scan the room. She couldn’t see what they were looking at, but their expressions were too stony to be seeing anything that was friendly.

“Why haven’t you destroyed them, then?” Renya asked, ignoring the offended huff that came from either Alistair or Leliana.  
  
Kolgrim’s face became angry. “We are not allowed,” he growled. “The Guardian who guards the ashes refuses us passage, believing himself to be the true Guardian of Andraste…”

“But I don’t understand,” she interrupted. “If they are of Andraste, why do you not revere them?”

“I forget, you have not yet been enlightened,” Kolgrim said kindly. “Why do we need ashes when we serve the risen Andraste in all Her glory?” The dragon’s roar echoed around them again, closer this time.

“I see,” Renya said simply. “Tell me more about this Guardian, Father Kolgrim… The one who keeps you from the ashes…”

“He is a spirit, a terrible spirit who will strike down any who seek to free Andraste from her prison,” he told her. “He claims to see into your heart and judges all true believers as unworthy. We can no longer send disciples up to the ashes; he knows us too well.”

“That is unfortunate,” Renya said, shaking her head. She had no idea how she was going to get away from this man and his group, and so decided to play along with him, buying time.

However, Kolgrim was looking at her as with new eyes. “But you…” he said slowly. “You have claimed your faithfulness to Andraste, have killed to prove yourself worthy, although their deaths are unfortunate…” He smiled. “And I know of a way for you to atone for these sins and become one of us, as well… Imagine, a Dalish elf as a sister of the Disciples of Andraste.”

Renya’s ears pricked up. Perhaps he would just let them go. “That would be… unexpected, at the least.”

Kolgrim reached into a small pouch at his hip and handed her a vial full of dark red liquid. Blood.

“Am I to drink this?” she asked, more flatly than was probably wise. Luckily Kolgrim laughed.

“No. There will be time for that later. This vial,” he said, stepping closer to her. “Is full of the holy Andraste’s blood, taken from the great dragon in which she now resides. The Guardian will let you through to the ashes, believing you to be a pilgrim to venerate them. The task is then simple: empty the vial into the Ashes! Whatever magic was held in the Ashes will be undone… and our great Lady will be freed from the shackles of her past life!” Murmurs and nods filled the hall at these words.

“I don’t think I like the idea of helping this Kolgrim fellow,” Alistair muttered.

Renya’s heart was racing. While she did not care for this Andraste, or the Shantri’s silent Maker, it didn’t seem right to destroy something of another person’s religion. Isn’t that what the shemlen had done to the Elvhen? She looked down at the vial in his hand. It was an opportunity to shake the Shantri to its core, and force them to fight among themselves; it could stop them from continuing their crusade against the Dalish... She glanced around at the armed men and poised mages. Her ears twitched as she heard bows being pulled taught.

“I do not understand,” she said, playing for more time. “What will dragon blood do to the ashes?”

“Blood carries power, strength, and knowledge,” Kolgrim said, getting excited. “Through it, all the power that is held in the ashes will be returned to our Lady!” he finished in a joyful shout, turning to the men behind him. His voice echoed around the cavernous room and was answered by a brief shout of cheering before the room became silent again.

“What is this talk of blood and power?” Leliana asked softly. “And he thinks Andraste is reborn? It is preposterous! Oh, I do not like this,” she said with a light groan, leaning on Nyviel.

Renya walked forward and took the vial from him. From where she was standing now, she was able to see her companions. Zevran’s eyes kept darting to the archers by the ceiling, and Nyviel was glancing around at all the armored men. Her eyes, too, shifted to the archers before meeting Renya’s. Morrigan was staring at her intensely, her gold eyes bright. Alistair and Leliana wore matching outrage on their faces as she took the vial from Kolgrim. The elf glanced around the room at the armed men and mages. They were greatly outnumbered already, and that didn’t account for the ten or so archers ready to fire at them at a moment’s notice.

Leliana was watching Renya carefully. The elf looked uncomfortable at best, and kept glancing up into the shadows near the ceiling. Green eyes finally settled onto her, and Leliana wished she could read the thoughts that seemed to be flying behind them. Renya looked worried. But then her expression changed to its familiar sternness and she faced Kolgrim.

“We will bring this blood to the ashes,” she said shortly.

“What?” Alistair clipped hotly.

“We will bring the blood to the ashes,” Renya repeated, more forcefully. “Andraste was a friend to the elves, and I wish to see her returned to the glory that she deserves,” she invented. Kolgrim smiled approvingly. But Alistair was not pleased.

“Renya, since when do you-?”

“We have once chance,” interrupted Renya meaningfully. “One chance to do this. We are going to take it.”

“You have made a wise decision,” Kolgrim said. He put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it a little too hard. “Return here when you have completed this task and you will be made a sister of the Disciples of Andraste.”

“We will return,” the elf replied. At a signal from Kolgrim, the group of men behind him made a path for her.

“Now, I shall beseech the holy Andraste to let you pass safely into the Inner Sanctum,” Kolgrim said. With that, he turned and walked away into another room.

With a glance at her companions, Renya set off toward the great door at the other end of the hall. She slipped the vial into her pouch and twisted the ring on her finger when they reached the door. Zevran put his shoulder against the heavy stone and pushed the door open, revealing another mountain pass.

“I’m just going to assume you have something amazing and _tricky_ up your sleeve…” Alistair said darkly as the Warden passed him. She ignored him, still aware of the archers trained on them.

It was refreshing to be outside again, but only for a moment. A roar shook the air around them, and a dark shadow passed overhead. The party looked up, and then dove for cover behind pillars and in the sheltered doorway. Renya was kneeling behind a broken column on what used to be a bridge, her hand pressed onto Nyviel’s back, watching as the dragon flapped past them, roaring and breathing fire. It was the biggest, most terrifying animal she had ever seen.

The dragon flew away and the party continued forward cautiously. They trudged up the mountain for a time, before distant flapping wings caught the elves’ attention again.

“It’s returned,” Zevran said, crouching close to the ground.

They scattered again, running in different directions for whatever cover they could find. Renya slid under a rock as Zevran crouched in a craggy part of the mountainside. Alistair was behind a giant boulder nearby, concealed in its shadow. Nyviel scrambled in after Renya as a blaze of fire scorched the valley near them.

“Renya,” Nyviel whispered. “Where’s Leliana?”

“ _What?_ ”

The elves peered out from under their rock. A little distance away, near a burning tree, crouched Morrigan over a collapsed figure. Morrigan had her hand raised, and the air shimmered around her and the person on the ground. It didn’t take Nyviel or Renya’s good vision to see who was on the ground. It was easy to make out Leliana’s red hair.

“What are we going to do?” Nyviel asked the older elf, her eyes wide. They looked around as best as they could from their vantage point. A little way up the path was an overhanging rock jutting out from the mountain. They would be better protected there, but there was no way Morrigan would be able to keep up her shield and drag a body that far before she, too, collapsed.

“Stay here,” Renya murmured. “No matter what happens, stay here.” She waited until Nyviel had nodded, and then darted out from under the rock, stooping low as she ran. “Elgar’nan, give me strength,” she murmured.

Morrigan looked up at her approach. “Warden…”

“I know. Help me.”

With a heave, the two women picked Leliana up and half-guided, half-carried her to the mountainside. Morrigan knelt next to her under the overhang and, at another roar, Renya joined them. The witch looked at her.

“She was running, and simply collapsed,” she said, shaking her head. “Do you still think this was a good idea, Warden?”

“No, Morrigan. It was never a good idea. But elves keep their word,” Renya said, watching the dragon’s progress through the sky.

“If it was not a good idea, then...”

“Remember this conversation if you ever ask me to do something for you,” the elf snapped at her. “I am sure you will want me to keep my promise then, no matter the task.”

Morrigan fell silent.

Finally the sounds of the dragon died away, and they watched as it flew to the top of a mountain peak, curled up, and appeared to go to sleep. Tentatively, they all came out from their hiding places and reconvened on the path. Renya, meanwhile, pulled Leliana to her feet. She looked paler than usual, and her eyes were red-rimmed again. Her face was hot.

“Renya, I shouldn’t have come,” she said weakly. “I know why you brought me, but…”

“You do not expect me to leave you on the side of a mountain where a dragon lives, do you?” Renya asked, arching an eyebrow at her. She put her arm around the bard’s shoulders and helped her walk. Nyviel came over, pulling out another health potion. She hoped they found the ashes soon. Half of her vials were empty already.

“Leliana…?”

She offered it to the bard, who nodded, reaching out a shaky hand. Renya took the vial from the younger elf and uncorked it with one hand. Nyviel smiled as she watched Renya gently bring the glass to Leliana’s lips and carefully helped her sip it.

“I do not need your supervision for this,” Renya said without looking at the other elf. “I will return the vial.”

“Ma nuvenin,” Nyviel replied. She walked away, shaking her head.

“There,” Renya murmured, still holding the bard’s shoulders and tipping more of the potion into her mouth. She let Leliana hold on to her hand and arm as she helped her drink. Leliana nodded weakly. She seemed to be having trouble swallowing.

“Just a little more, Lelia…”

The bard smiled and nodded again. She took a sip. “Renya…”

“Hush. Drink.”

Another sip. “Renya…”

“Drink more.”

But Leliana turned her head away. “Renya… no one thinks I should be here, and they’re right,” she said softly.

“I want you here,” Renya replied a little uncomfortably, studying the vial of health potion. She finally met Leliana’s gaze. “I promised you, didn’t I? And you wanted to stand in front of the Urn of Sacred Ashes and feel the power of their presence. To be… overwhelmed by them?” She paused. “That is what you want, isn’t it?”

She nodded, blue staring into green. “That’s all I want.”

Renya raised the vial and held it to her lips again. Leliana drank with a little more strength than before. Once she had finished the potion, the red around her eyes had decreased slightly, and her coloring had improved, although she still looked pallid. Her face was still warmer than was natural.

“Come on,” the Warden said, trying to keep the concern from her voice. “Just a little further.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully Nyviel's potions don't run out before they're back... Just a bit of an easier chapter after all the drama of the previous few. Hope you enjoyed!!
> 
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	57. Of Guardians and Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group continues their journey and begins the first trials of the gauntlet after being questioned by the Guardian.

About half an hour later, they reached the top of the mountain. A stone door jutted out from the snow. Glancing at Alistair, Renya reached out and tried the handle. It opened easily, and swung silently on its hinges. The group walked inside. With the door shut, the room was still and silent.

“Odd,” Morrigan said, looking around the torch-lit room. “This is in much better shape than the rest of the temple we have seen. Less… troubled by human hands, perhaps?”

Renya nodded, cautiously walking forward. The deep shadows were making her uneasy, but they made their way to the other end of the room without incident.

“We… we must be close,” Leliana said, holding on to Zevran’s arm again. “This is holy ground. I can feel it.”

“Well, then,” Morrigan said mockingly. “We must be nearing the end of this ridiculous task, if the bard-turned-Chantry-girl thinks we are upon holy ground. I tremble at the might of the Maker. Truly.” She rolled her eyes.

“Must you?” Zevran said, cutting off Leliana’s reply. “She is ill enough without your unhelpful words.”

“As an assassin, I am surprised you have not commented on the absurdity of this journey.”

“I happen to follow the Maker,” Zevran said stoutly. “How else do you think I have survived without divine intervention?” He grinned at the witch.

“You do?” Alistair asked in surprise. “But you’ve… you’ve killed so many people!”

“And asked forgiveness for each one.”

“But you kept doing it!”

“I have continually sought forgiveness,” Zevran replied with a small smile.

“But that’s not how it works,” Alistair pressed. “You can’t ask forgiveness and then go and do the same thing over again!”

“The Maker has not questioned my actions,” the elf commented with a shrug. “And yet you do?”

“You can’t just…”

“Who’s that?” Renya said pointedly. Alistair and Zevran stopped arguing and looked where she was pointing.

A bearded man was standing in front of the door, the visor of his helmet up. The armor looked old and was very ornate; metal wings were attached to the helmet, and the small medallion he wore looked to be an ancient iteration of the Chantry’s sunburst.

“Greetings, travelers,” the man said when they approached.

“Andaran atish’an,” Renya said with a little bow to the man. “We are –”

“I know why you have come,” the man said without smiling. “I am the Guardian, the first Disciple of Andraste. I am bound to protect Andraste’s ashes from all who would cause Her harm. I was Andraste’s first guardian, and will be her last; I will stand here until the fall of the Tevinter Imperium.”

“You are a Disciple of Andraste?” Renya asked warily. She couldn’t picture this man as one of the dragon-worshipers they had met at the bottom of the mountain. He seemed to know what she was thinking.

“You have met Kolgrim and his men.”

“I have.”

The Guardian sighed. “For many years, I and my breathren have stood watch over Andraste’s temple, joyful, content. But these men… they have lost their way, it seems. Many have come here, seeking to destroy the Urn of Sacred Ashes, all in the name of dragon worship.”

“Andraste has not risen as a dragon, then?” Renya asked. The Guardian scowled at her. “Ma serannas. I am sorry,” the said swiftly. “I do not know much of this Shantri religion.”

“Yes. I can see you are a Dalish elf,” he replied slowly. “It is a wonder you are here at all, with peace in your heart.” He considered her, and then shook his head. “No, Andraste has not returned as a dragon. Our Andraste has gone to the Maker’s side. She will not return. The dragon is a fearsome creature, and they must have seen her as an alternative to the absent Maker and His silent Andraste. A true believer would not require such audacious displays of power.”

“I see,” Renya said, taking a deep breath. “So you have been here since Andraste’s death at the hands of Tevinter?”

“I have. It is my duty to prepare the way for the faithful who have come to revere Andraste. For years beyond counting I have been here, and shall I stay until the Imperium has fallen.”

“The Tevinter Imperium is not as strong as it once was,” the elf said now. For a moment, the Guardian’s face relaxed.

“Ah… is it not?” he said with interest. “Than perhaps this is the beginning of the end…”

“If I may be bold, Guardian, how does a pilgrim reach the ashes?”

“What is your purpose here?”

Renya felt the eyes of her companions on her, and felt the vial of blood pressing against her in her pack. “We have heard the ashes have healing properties, and…” she indicated vaguely toward Leliana and Alistair. “My friends follow the Chant.” She decided that lying to an ages-old Guardian would not get them anywhere.

“Hm. Honesty?” the Guardian said with interest. “Only those who are worthy can appear before the ashes.”

“And what happens if I am not worthy?”

“Then you will not reach the Ashes,” he replied in his slow voice. “But that is not for me to say. The Gauntlet before you will determine if you are worthy or not,” the Guardian stated simply. “If you are found worthy, you will be able to reach the Urn and take a pinch of the Ashes for yourself. If not…” he trailed off and looked at her.

“Then let us go,” Renya said.

“Before you go, there is something I must ask. I see that the path that has brought you here has not been easy. There is suffering in your past,” he said. “Your suffering, and the suffering of others.”

Renya’s throat constricted. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

“Now, I have a question for you.”

Renya nodded. She found her voice. “Of course.”

His heavy gaze fell on her. “Did you fail Tamlen?”

The elf stared at him, eyes wide.

“Did you fail Tamlen?” the Guardian asked again. “You left him to his fate, all alone in that cavern.”

Renya’s jaw clenched, her thoughts flying. She didn’t remember how she had wound up at the mouth of the cave, but… Yes. She must have left him there, all alone…

“Yes,” she said, her voice catching. “I failed him. I… I must have left him. I did everything I could think of to find him, but… maybe there was more. I could have gone back. Searched more…” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat.

“Thank you for your answer,” the Guardian replied evenly.

“Don’t torture yourself like that,” Leliana said from behind her.

“You’re too hard on yourself. Nobody’s perfect,” Alistair added, remembering the evening Renya had told him the truth behind why she had become a Grey Warden.

“Is there any religion of the world that does not build itself on guilt?” Morrigan muttered to herself. “No? ‘Tis a shame…”

“And what of your companions? You, Alistiar, knight and Warden,” the Guardian said, turning to him. “You wish that you had been there to shield Duncan from that final blow? You wonder, don’t you, if you should have died and Duncan lived. You believe Ferelden would be better off had your places been switched.”

“Yes,” Alistair said miserably and without hesitation. He bowed his head. “If Duncan had been saved, and not me, everything would be better. If I just had the chance, maybe…” He sighed.

“Alistair…” Leliana said softly.

“And you,” the Guardian interrupted her. Leliana looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Why do you say the Maker speaks to you, when all know the Maker has left?”

Leliana looked away.

“The Maker only spoke to Andraste. Do you believe yourself Her equal?” The Guardian sounded almost angry. Leliana’s head snapped up.

“I _never_ said that,” she replied with a defiant wave of her hand. “I-”

But the Guardian wasn’t finished with her. “In Orlais, you were someone. But in Lothering, you feared you would lose yourself, become a drab sister, and disappear. When your brothers and sisters of the cloister criticized you for what you professed, you were hurt, but you also reveled in it. It made you special. You enjoyed the attention,” the Guardian said accusingly. “Even if it was negative.”

“You’re saying I made it up for… for the attention? I did not!” Leliana said, annoyed. “I know what I believe.”

“Your vanity is your weakness,” the Guardian said with a small shake of his head. “It was in this that you thought you could change her. You failed. As long as your actions are driven by your conceit, you will only reap the same.”

Leliana stumbled backward a step and leaned on one of the stone columns, staring at the back of Renya’s head.

“And you, young one…” The Guardian turned to Nyviel before Leliana could respond. The younger elf took a deep breath and nodded. “You ran from the Tower, seeking to be more than you are. You seek to be Dalish although you are not. You joined the Wardens to be remembered, although your role is not needed. You fear being alone and forgotten. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Nyviel took another shaky breath before squaring her shoulders. “We all fear being alone, Ser Guardian,” she said evenly. “Yes, I sought to alleviate these fears. And yes,” she added softly. “I ran. I know I am not needed here.”

“Nyviel…” the Warden murmured. But the Guardian cut her off, now looking at Morrigan.

“And you, Morrigan, Flemeth’s daughter. What…”

“Begone, Spirit. I will not play your games,” Morrigan said dismissively, waving her hand. “Direct your probing questions elsewhere.”

“I will respect your wishes,” the Guardian replied. He finally turned to Zevran.

“And you, the Antivan elf,” he said slowly.

“Oh, is it my turn now? Hurrah, I’m so excited…” the elf replied dully.

“Many have died at your hand,” the Guardian said in his low voice. His light blue eyes stared unblinking at Zevran. “But is there any you regret more than a woman by the name of-”

“How do you know about that?” Zevran demanded.

“I know much; it is allowed to me. But the question still stands, however. Do you regret-”

“Yes,” Zevran cut in curtly. “The answer is yes, if that is what you wish to know. I do. Now move on.”

“I see,” the Guardian said gravely. He turned the the group at large. “The way is open. Good luck, and may you find what you seek.” And he vanished.

Glancing around at her companions, Renya saw that they looked as troubled as she was feeling after being forced to face their worst regrets. With a sigh, she turned and pushed open the door to the next cavernous room. Eight little alcoves lined the walls, each with a specter standing in it, waiting. Renya drew her sword and walked to the other end of the room, waiting for the humans to attack, but they never did.

“Do we need to talk to them?” Alistair asked, hand on the hilt of his sword. With a nod, they all walked back to the other side of the room. The Wardens looked at each other. Alistair pointed to one of the specters with a shrug. Renya walked up to it.

“The smallest lark may carry it, but a strong man may not,” the first specter, a woman, said. “Of what do I speak?”

Renya raised an eyebrow. She had never been fond of riddles.

“Oh, I know this one,” Alistair said.

“It is not your question to answer,” the woman cut in, looking at Renya. The elf groaned and looked away.

“A lark, but not a man…a lark…” She squinted up at the woman. “…A tune?”

The specter smiled. “Yes,” she said happily. “I was Andraste’s dearest friend in childhood. And always we would sing. She celebrated the beauty of life, and all who heard her would be filled with joy. They said the Maker Himself was moved by Andraste’s songs, and no more did she sing of simple things.”

As soon as she finished talking, she shone like a bright beacon for a moment before wind whistled past the group to the door at the other end of the room, taking the specter with it. Renya looked at Alistair.

“Only seven more…”

They walked up to another specter, an older woman. “Echoes of a shadow realm, whispers of things yet to come. Thought’s strange sister dwells in night and is swept away at dawning’s light. Of what do I speak?”

Renya glanced at Leliana. “A dream,” she said confidently.

“Yes. A dream came upon me as my daughter slumbered beneath my heart. It told me of her life and of her betrayal and death. I am sorrow and regret. I am a mother weeping bitter tears for a daughter she could not save.” And she, too, disappeared.

The third specter looked at Renya with a small smile on his face. “Andaran atish’an, Elvhen,” the elf said.

“Are you…Shartan?” Renya asked incredulously. But the specter continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

“I am neither a guest nor a trespasser be. In this place I belong, that belongs also to me. Of what do I speak?”

Renya smiled. “Home.”

Shartan nodded his head slowly. “It was my dream for the Elvhen, the People, to have a home of their own, where we would have no masters but ourselves.” He looked at Renya seriously. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and thus we followed Andraste against the Imperium. But… she was betrayed, and so were we.” His sad eyes met hers briefly before the wind rushed past them again, taking the shadow of the elf with it.

“He did not sound as pleased to follow Andraste as the stories say,” Leliana commented softly.

“His alliance was one of business, not of friendship or belief,” Renya replied as they walked along. “Not surprising,” she added without thinking. “Elves and humans rarely work well together.” She blinked and glanced at Alistair. “Sorry, lethallin.”

“’Tis true enough,” Morrigan cut in with a shrug.

Leliana dropped her eyes as they walked forward, and so missed the glance Renya sent her way.

“An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,” a very angry-looking woman said next. “The debt of blood must be paid in full. Of what do I speak?”

“I…” Renya faltered. Revenge came to mind, but if all these questions were of Andraste’s life, nothing about it, as far as she had heard, dealt with revenge. She glanced around at her companions for help.

“You are the only one who may speak an answer,” the woman said. “Of what do I speak?”

Renya rubbed her vallaslin. “Debt of blood…” she murmured to herself. She thought of being stabbed by a templar, and, more recently, of herself holding the sword against a templar’s throat. Justice driven by hatred… “Is it… vengeance?”

The woman scowled. “Yes. My husband Hessarian would have chosen a quick death for Andraste. I made him swear she would die publicly with her war leaders. Then, all would know the Imperium’s strength. I am justice,” she said with relish. “I am vengeance. Blood can only be paid in blood.”

“Almost there,” Nyviel said, patting Renya on the back.

“Does anyone else want to take one?” Renya asked, twisting her Keeper’s ring. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“I will,” Leliana said. They reached the fifth specter, a man in Chantry clothing. Leliana stepped forward. He ignored her.

“I am ready for the question,” she said politely after a few awkwardly silent moments passed.

“You do not lead this group,” he said shortly.

“Here,” Alistair said. “I’m a Grey Warden-”

“Nor do you.”

“I… well, yes, you’re right,” he mumbled, looking uncomfortable.

“He can lead, I don’t mind,” Renya said. The specter turned his gaze onto her.

“The bones of the world streth toward the sky’s embrace.” He covered his face with his hands. “Veiled in white, like a bride greeting her groom. Of what do I speak?”

Renya sighed. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine what the earth’s bones might look like. She opened them again. Of course; they had been walking up them as one would travel up a backbone.

“Mountains?”

The man nodded.

“Yes, I carried Andraste’s ashes out of Tevinter into the mountains to the east, where she could gaze ever in to her Maker’s sky.” He smiled. “No more fitting a tomb than this could we find!” And he was gone.

“Ir abelas, Alistair,” Renya said.

“If the ghosts are saying it, it must be true,” he commented with a weak smile. “I’ve said all along I like following. I just wish I could help you right now.”

“Ma serannas, lethallin. I know.”

A shorter man with a helmet covering his face stood up straighter at their approach. “Poison of the soul,” he said, his voice strained. “Passion’s cruel counterpart. From love she grows, ‘til love lies slain.”

Leliana shifted uncomfortably, glancing between Nyviel and Renya. Neither elf looked at her.

“Of what do I speak?”

“Jealousy,” Renya answered without emotion, keeping her expression blank. The man looked sorrowful.

“Yes, jealousy drove me to betrayal,” he said. “I was the greatest general of the Alamarri, but beside Her… I was nothing. Hundreds fell before Her on bended knee. They loved Her, as did the Maker.” He paused. “I loved her, too… but what man can compare with a god?”

They walked on without any comments between them. The man’s words echoed horribly in Leliana’s head. _Jealousy, betrayal… broken._

“She wields the broken sword, and separates true kings from tyrants. Of what do I speak?” said a young man before them.

Renya squinted. Time told the difference between good kings and bad ones, but time did not hold a sword. The image of the Orlesian assassin lying on the ground mingled with the image of Leliana’s scars.

“Mercy. Mercy is of what you speak.”

“Yes, mercy. I couldn’t bear the sight of Andraste’s suffering, and mercy bade me to end her life,” the man said, miming thrusting a sword into someone. “I am the penitent sinner, who shows compassion as he hopes compassion will be shown to him.” He, too, vanished.

Finally they reached the either specter. “No man has seen it,” the man in the heavy armor said with a thick Ferelden accent. “But all men know it. Lighter than air, sharper than any sword. Comes from nothing, but will fell the strongest armies. Of what do I speak?”

Renya smiled. “Hunger.” Her stomach growled a little.

“Yes, hunger was the weapon used against the wicked men of the Tevinter Imperium. The Maker kindled the sun’s flames, scortching the land. Their crops failed, and their armies could not march. Then, He opened the heavens and bade the waters flow, and washed away their filth. I am Cathaire, Disciple of Andraste and commander of Her armies. I saw these things done,” he said in a crescendo, smiling, “and knew the Maker smiled on us!”

The room was now empty, save for the Wardens and their companions. Renya took a deep breath.

“I hope there are no more riddles,” she said dryly.

“You did well,” Leliana said, nodding.

“Indeed,” Morrigan said. “I shudder to think what would have happened had you answered a question wrong.”

“But she didn’t, so let’s keep moving,” Nyviel said with a nervous glance at Leliana. Her eyes were looking red-rimmed again.

A man was in the middle of the next room in front of a statue of a woman holding a shield. Once they were in the doorway, Renya was able to see that the man was in fact an elf. An elf with vallaslin. Very, very familiar vallaslin. Her breath caught as she quickened her pace, almost jogging up to him.

“Tamlen?” She wanted to smile, but his face looked so stern.

“It’s so cold here, Renya. Do you feel it?” he asked. “The chill eats at my bones.”

It was so good to hear his voice again. “Tamlen?” Renya asked, her voice sounding high and small. “Is that really you?” She started to reach out to touch him, but then stopped, afraid equally of feeling his skin as lifeless and cold, and of her hand passing through him completely.

Tamlen’s expression didn’t change. “You think: this cannot be Tamlen. Tamlen is gone; he is only footsteps in the dust.” He considered her. “I am Tamlen, and yet I am not. I am part of the Gauntlet… and part of you.”

Renya shook her head, swallowing hard. “Please, spirit… I wish… I wish I could tell Tamlen I am sorry. And… that I tried to find him…”

The elf’s expression softened. “Some things lost can never be found, some mistakes never unmade,” he said sadly. “Those that survive must go on living. You have suffered enough, thinking that you could have done something. It is time to leave that behind,” he added kindly. “Take this.” He handed her what looked like a necklace. “It is nothing compared to the crafts of our fathers, but it should serve you well.” He nodded at her, the ghost of his old, friendly smile on his lips. “I wish you well, lethallan. We will not meet again.”

Renya looked down at the necklace in her hands. When she had looked up again, he was gone.

“Tamlen…?” She clenched and unclenched her jaw. Holding the necklace up, she saw that the silver metal was as smooth as a mirror. She thought she saw something in it move; the face seemed familiar, and its smile was encouraging. She took a deep breath and fastened it around her neck, tucking it under her armor.

“Let’s go,” she said, her voice constricted. She walked on, not looking at anyone else, ignoring the tightness in her throat. A loud bang behind her caused her to spin around; a shimmering barrier stook between her and her companions.

“What is this?” she asked, putting her hand on it and pressing. It was quite solid. She saw Alistair mirror her movement, but their hands were separated by the glimmering energy. His mouth moved, but she couldn’t hear his words. A dull hiss caused her ears to twitch. The side of the room she was in was beginning to fill with smoke. Renya’s eyes widened and she began banging fruitlessly against the barrier. Her companions joined it. Alistair drew his sword and was thrown back as the blade connected, and Leliana, her strength briefly returned, was ramming her shoulder into the barrier as hard as she could. Morrigan and Nyviel appeared to be frantically casting spells while Zevran spun on his heel and yelled soundlessly at the Guardian, gesticulating at the space Renya was in. The Guardian, who had appeared behind them, was ignoring him, watching Renya.

Slowly the view of her friends was obscured as the room filled with smoke. She spun and leaned against the barrier, holding her breath until she couldn’t anymore. With a gasp, she fell to her knees. The air seemed safe to breathe, but shadows were moving around her. Tamlen’s voice echoed through the fog.

“Come… lethallan…”

A shadowy, humanoid-shaped figure appeared in the mist, dragging another shadow behind it.

“Must… leave….”

The shadow dropped its companion on the ground and then fell to its knees.

“Wake up… wake up…”

Renya’s eyes widened. “No. No… Please, no…” she rasped.

The shadowy Tamlen let out a pain-filled scream, clutching his head. “No… no I cannot go… not yet…”

More voices were echoing through the fog, but Renya couldn’t make them out. The shadow Tamlen seemed to hear them, too, and he looked up almost expectantly.

“No… no, can’t… be seen… must… heed the call…”

“No, Tamlen!” Renya cried, scrambling to her feet and trying to follow him. “Stay! Duncan is coming. He will help you!” Her voice caught on the last sentence.

Tamlen rose and lumbered away a few steps before falling to his knees again with another cry.

“Make it… stop… it hurts… so badly… It… burns…”

“Tamlen!” Renya was almost there. She could reach him. She could help him this time, if only… As she approached, she tripped over something large and fell. Under her feet was another shadow; she didn’t need to see the hazy outlines of vallaslin and pointed ears to know who it was… She suddenly felt lightheaded. The elf on the ground, sporting her vallaslin, looked quite dead, eyes half-open, staring unseeing at the sky.

The voices were getting closer.

“You… safe…” Tamlen rasped before running away into the mist. Renya wrenched her eyes back onto his retreating figure.

“Tamlen! Wait! No! Please!”

“Can you hear me?” said a low, soothing voice. “I am… very sorry…”

The shadows were shifting again.

“Will she be alright?” said another voice. This one was higher, female… with a familiar accent.

“I’m sorry. Have we met?” Duncan asked.

“No. Will she be alright?” Merrill’s voice was clipped. Renya’s heart ached and her throat tightened as the familiar accent washed over her.

She heard Duncan sigh. “No. There may be a way to cure her, but… you have lost a clan member today.”

“No!” Renya shouted. “No!”

“No,” Merrill echoed, her voice filling with dread. “No, you’re wrong!”

“I’m sorry,” Duncan said. He pulled away from the figure lying on the ground. “The taint will spread. It will take her, and then infect the rest of your clan.”

Renya, who had reached forward angrily toward Duncan, froze.

“No,” she said dangerously. “No, that would not have happened. I was fine. I was fine before I became a Warden…”

“I must go. There is much for me to do,” the shadowy Duncan said, rising and turning. “You must leave here.” He paused and looked over his shoulder. “You must leave here and leave her behind.”

“No,” Renya murmured as the shadow Duncan walked away and the specter Merrill fell to her knees at the prone shadow’s side. “No… please…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Uh oh...
> 
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> 
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	58. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions continue their progress through the gauntlet.

Alistair shoved against the barrier again, grunting. Leliana had her hands and forehead pressed against it and was breathing heavily as they listened to Renya’s disembodied screams come from the fog.

“Wait! No! Please!”

“Is there a reason for this little exercise?” Morrigan posed, her eyes flashing as she looked at Leliana.

“You ask me as if I know?” Leliana said helplessly.

“You are of this Chantry,” Morrigan began.

“No! No!” came Renya’s cry, interrupting Morrigan. The elf sounded like she was in agony.

And suddenly the barrier was gone. Alistair an Leliana, who had both been leaning against it, lurched forward as the fog cleared, revealing Renya standing on the other side of the room. They hurried over to her, with Nyviel, Morrigan, and Zevran on their heels. Renya seemed unaware of their approach.

“I was fine before I became a Warden!” Renya was insisting, staring at an empty space in front of her.

“Renya?” Alistair asked tentatively. She took no notice of him.

“No…” Renya pleaded. She was now looking imploringly at the ground at her feet. “No… please…” she whispered. “Please… Do not leave me.”

“We haven’t left you,” Alistair offered. But Renya continued talking to the empty floor.

“Please… _please_ do not leave me…”

“Renya?” Nyviel ventured tentatively.

“No…” Renya moaned. She fell to her knees an reached out as if comforting someone. “No, do not cry. It will all be alright…”

“No… I cannot. I am so sorry…” Renya murmured. Dismay crossed her features. “I did not mean to…” She buried her face in her hands and shook her head. After a few quiet moments, she took a deep breath and raised her head. She looked startled to see where she was and rose quickly, glancing at her companions. Her stomach tied into a knot when she saw the pitying looks on all of their faces. She sought out Morrigan, hoping she would offer the flinty determination she needed to see, but even the apostate was regarding her with a more somber expression than usual.

“Are you alright?” Leliana asked. Renya’s face, which had looked lost and broken a moment before, instantly became hard and unreadable.

“Yes.”

“You can go back, you know,” the Guardian said from behind her. “The path is easy. I know the way. Back to the things you desire. I can make it so.”

Renya glared at him, her face twitching into something of a snarl even as a few tears trickled down her face.

“I can return you to how things were,” the Guardian insisted. “He will be alive again. She will be happy to see you. They will all be safe. I can ensure these things…”

A few more tears. Renya’s throat constricted and she swallowed. She forced her gaze off of the Guardian, wiping her eyes with a businesslike gesture.

“Happiness,” he continued inexorably. “Peace with your clan. A life with those you love. That is what you desire, and you will have it, if only you choose to return.”

How dare he? How _dare_ he?

Renya gripped the ring on her finger, hard. Her hands shook a little.

“Let’s go. We have a job to do. A promise to keep,” she said shortly, glancing at Alistair. The other Warden nodded, and the pair set off. Renya wiped her eyes one final time and cleared her throat.

“Renya…” Leliana walked up next to her a few silent moments later.

“Don’t.”

“As you say,” Leliana replied gently.

The next room appeared empty. Out of nowhere, six shadowy figures appeared, each a perfect reflection of the party members. Weapons out, the shadows charged at them. It was a disconcerning fight, to say the least. Renya had with no choice but to defend herself as her reflection attacked her ferociously.

“Betrayer,” her shadow rasped treacherously. “Flat-ear…”

“Stop repeating what I do,” Alistair said angrily as he blocked an attack. “You would think you didn’t have an original thought in your head. You have a brain in there.”

“Kill me,” Zevran’s shadow whispered horribly. “That is what you want…”

“Begone,” the real Zevran replied with a swipe of his blades. “I am with the Wardens now.”

“I do not fear you,” Morrigan said off-handedly, but her eyes were wide as her shadow advanced on her. “I am not afraid of what stares back at me in the mirror…”

Nyviel shot a spell at her shadow and it fell with a scream. “You looked too weak to be me,” she spat at it, a haunted look on her face.

Soon the shadows lay dead and dissolving on the floor. Zevran shook his head.

“Are we to continue to be faced with the worst of ourselves?” he asked.

“Did you see that?” Leliana said with unpleasant wonder. “Did you see the cruelty on my… on her face? Is that me? Is that really what I am?”

“We are not these shadows,” Renya said emphatically, trying to convince herself. “We are not.” She glanced at Alistair, who was watching the shadow of himself disappear. He caught her eye.

“Let’s go,” he said simply. “We’re done here.”

The door to the next room swung open easy. Renya and Alistair walked in first, then stopped short in front of a giant pit in front of them. The rest of the travelers all squeezed in around them.

“Oh, this looks fun!” Leliana commented. “Now, I’m sure we’ll all just have to work together, hold hands, and sing a happy song before skipping across.”

Renya rubbed her vallaslin in annoyance. “There must be a trick to this,” she muttered, walking around the ridge of the hole. She stepped on a plate and a ghost of a platform in the middle of the pit appeared. She stepped off that one and on to another, and another shimmering platform appeared. Sixteen plates in all, eight on each side of the pit, and each one activated one or two of eight floating platforms.

“What good is an incorporeal bridge?” Morrigan said as Renya tested the plates again. “Are we to simply imagine ourselves on the other side?”

“Ah, I think I understand…” Zevran said with a smile as the Warden continued her experimenting. Renya nodded and pointed at one of the plates and Zevran carefully stepped onto it.

“And Leliana, you over there… Morrigan, on that one…”

A platform over the void appeared, close to where Renya, Alistair, and Nyviel were standing. It looked very solid.

“So I should stand on this one,” Nyviel commented, walking over to a plate that had made the second platform appear.

“Right,” Renya said, frowning in thought.

Nyviel stepped onto it and screamed as she was shot back with a pulse of energy. Renya and Alistair watched her with raised eyebrows.

“Are you alright?” Leliana called across the pit to her. Nyviel stood and ran her hand through her light brown hair – it was standing on end.

“Yes, I think so,” she said with some humor. “Apparently we’re only allowed three at a time. So who is going across?”

Alistair and Renya looked at each other. “I will,” Renya said. “I can’t kill both Eamon’s son and his nephew.” Before Alistair could respond, she took a deep breath and stepped onto the platform. It held.

“Now what?” Zevran asked. Renya thought.

“One person at a time, leave the plates. Wait, wait!” Renya said hurriedly, waving her hands. “Wait until one of you is on the plate for the next platform…”

Leliana watched in horror as Zevran slowly stepped off his plate. She locked eyes with Renya, who looked terrified and determined all at once. Zevran stepped off fully. The plate held. A collective sigh went up. Zevran stepped on another plate, and the second platform appeared as a shadow in front of Renya.

“Okay,” Renya said with more bravery than she was feeling. “Now someone else step onto that other plate.” She pointed. “I think this will hold,” she commented, not realy believing it. Morrigan and Leliana looked at one another, both wondering which would be the one to test Renya’s theory and step off their plate.

Morrigan took a breath and began to step off.

“Wait!” Nyviel cried out. Morrigan froze and looked at her. “She’s wrong.” The younger elf was staring at the plates in front of her. “There was one that made the first and second platforms appear. Zevran, find that one. Morrigan, stay where you are!”

They obeyed, Morrigan moving to stand fully on her plate again. Zevran found the correct plate and stood on it.

“Now,” Nyviel said slowly. “Morrigan, you need to find one that is for two and three…” she said thoughtfully. “And Leliana, you stay there until Morrigan is settled. Then Renya can move. Then you’ll step right onto that one,” she said, pointing to the plate next to the one Leliana was on.

“Are you very sure about this?” Morrigan asked, glancing at Renya.

“I’m… fairly sure. Yes, I’m sure,” Nyviel said, after scanning over the plates again.

“Just do it,” Renya said. Her breathing was rapid. “Go on.”

Morrigan tentatively stepped of her plate, half expecting to watch the Warden go plunging into the pit. But the platform held. She quickly found the next plate and stepped on it. Once she was on, the second platform looked solid. Renya hopped onto it and nodded at Leliana, who stepped onto the plate next to her. The first platform disappeared.

And so they inched the Warden across the dark pit until she reached the other side, Nyviel calling out directions to the three companions on the plates. She smiled a little when she noticed Alistair out of the side of her eye; the other Warden was standing as stiff as a board with his jaw set, looking like he was going to be sick.

Once Renya had finally made it to the other side - collapsing into a wall next to the door - a booming crash echoed through the room as the eight platforms became solid. Zevran, Morrigan, and Leliana all stepped off their plates, and the bridge held.

“I’ll test it,” Alistair said, stepping onto the first platform. It held him and, with a glance back at the rest of the companions, jogged across the bridge to join his fellow Warden.

“You saved my life,” Renya said to Nyviel when they all had reached her, grabbing both her shoulders and looking at her seriously. She smiled and pulled her into a hug. “Truly. That was a sharp eye.”

“Oh, I… it was… just… glad to help,” Nyviel said with a pleased smile. She glanced at Leliana, who was beaming at her through her fevered eyes. Renya released her and they continued on, but Leliana held out a hand to deter Nyviel.

“Thank you… thank you so, so much,” the bard said, swooping in and kissing Nyviel once on each cheek. Nyviel raised an eyebrow.

“Save those for Renya.” She laughed when she saw Leliana’s face. Shaking her head, she continued after the group without another comment. Leliana followed, her face burning with fever and embarrassment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Renya. And it's a good thing Nyviel was there, isn't it? I can't lie, that was sort of how I wound up playing this part of the game: "Okay, I got it. Wait wait wait no no no not like that... Okay, I got it..." It was one of my favorite puzzles!
> 
> Anyway... What about the Guardian's temptation? That really hit her, don't you think? And then those shadows... just to give you a little teaser into people's minds... ;) Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!
> 
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	59. To the Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions survive the Gauntlet and continue their quest.

“So what do we think is beyond this door?” Renya asked after they had made their way down a short hallway.

“More tests,” Alistair said with a shrug.

Pushing the door open, the Warden walked into the room and stopped.

“I… wasn’t expecting this,” Leilana said weakly.

In front of them was a stone altar, and surrounding them was a ring of fire. The flames rose so high they could not see any other part of the room.

“Great,” Renya mumbled. She went to examine the altar. “What does this say?” she asked, running her fingers over some carved symbols.

Alistair peered down at them. “Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit,” he read. “King and slave, lord and beggar, be born anew in the Maker’s sight.” He looked at Renya. “The trappings of worldly life?”

“It is a test of faith,” Leliana supplied, now leaning heavily on Nyviel. “You must give up your possessions and trust yourself to the Maker. To be born anew through the flames, like Andraste…” She blinked and shook her head, as if to clear her vision.

“We need to walk through the fire?” Renya asked, arching an eyebrow and glancing at the flames. Mythal protect her.

“And leave our possessions behind, it seems.” Alistair added. At Renya’s confused look, he gently tapped his armor.

“My prayers have been answered,” Zevran said with a wink. “Thank the Maker, and all that-”

“And if we do not believe in this Maker, Warden?” Morrigan asked, cutting him off.

“Then believe me,” Renya said heavily. “No harm will come to us. We are here to help the arl, nothing more.” Briefly her mind flit to the blood and she wondered what was about to become of her. Shaking her head, she began taking off her armor. Vaguely, she heard Nyviel offering to help Leliana, but she was too preoccupied in her own mind to truly notice.

“’Tis madness,” Morrigan grumbled, peeling off her gloves.

“Well, this is the most awkward thing I’ve done in a while,” Alistair commented with a grim smile, not looking at anyone.

Renya heard a little gasp come from behind her.

“Leliana…” Nyviel murmured, sounding shocked.

“It’s fine,” the bard clipped back just as quietly.

Renya, like Alistair, was carefully avoiding looking at anyone as she pulled off her armor, her jerkin, and her trousers.

“Mythal, preserve me,” she prayed silently. “Elgar’nan, give me strength. Falon’din, calm my soul…” She felt calmer as she continued the familiar prayer. “Dirthamen, uncloud my eyes. Ghilan’nain, speed my steps. Andruil, aim me true.” She removed the last piece of her clothing. “Sylaise, guide me home.”

They all stood in their small clothes before the flames. Taking a deep breath, Renya walked forward and passed through the fire, coming out on the other side untouched. She heard the rest of her companions follow.

“You have been through the trials of the Gauntlet,” the Guardian said, coming up behind her. She spun on her heel in surprise. “You have walked the path of Andraste and, like her, you have been cleansed,” he continued, staring straight ahead at something at the other end of the room. “You have proven yourself worthy, pilgrim. Approach the Sacred Ashes,” he said gravely. With a flash of light, he disappeared. Renya looked down and saw that she was again clad in her armor. Her companions were also looking down at their clothing, magically returned to them.

“By the Maker,” Alistair said reverently. “That’s the Urn of Sacred Ashes… That’s it! That’s really it!” He sobered. “I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to find the Sacred Ashes. But… here She is…”

“I stand in awe,” Morrigan said flatly. “Really. Though there is much magic in this place,” she added thoughtfully.

“I… I… I don’t know what to say,” Leliana whispered. “I never dreamed I would ever lay my eyes on the Urn of Sacred Ashes…I…I have no words to express…”

Renya nodded, breathing in deeply; a power resided here, although it did not cure the throbbing ache in her heart as it beat against the necklace the shadowy Tamlen had given her. Nodding to Alistair, they approached the large stairway leading up to the pedestal that held the Urn and walked up it slowly. They stood in front of the Urn, behind which towered a mighty statue of Andraste in her glory, her outstretched hand holding flames in it.

Alistair started praying, his head bowed. Not knowing what else to do, Renya knelt and bowed to the urn, offering thanks to the prophet for standing with the elves and helping them earn their freedom and their home in the Dales. She removed the top of the Urn and took a pinch of ashes, placing them in a small vial she had picked up in Denerim and tucking it safely in her pack. Then she pulled out the vial of blood, feeling eyes on her.

It would be so simple. Just empty the vial into the ashes. One mighty blow against the Shantri. One moment of vindication for all her people had lost…

She looked up into the eyes of the statue. The white marble looked out over the cavernous room, watchful for any faithful who traveled to meet their beloved savior. Her eyes fell back onto the urn, the only hint that this woman ever truly existed. The elves hadn’t been granted even that. Where were Shartan’s remains, after all? She swirled the bottle a little, contemplating. She hadn’t really thought about what she would do if they actually reached the ashes…

But that was the point, wasn’t it? She hadn’t thought about it because…

With a shake of her head, she tucked the vial back into her pouch. She would dispose of it once they were outside again.

“You didn’t use the blood,” Leliana said when Renya had returned. Renya shook her head.

“Of course not.”

“Then why did you take it?” Alistair asked.

Renya smiled crookedly. “You didn’t notice the archers in the balconies. I had to do something… Is that amazing and tricky enough for you?” she added, nudging him with her arm. He shook his head, smiling.

“Are we ready to depart? We have the ashes we need,” Morrigan commented.

Renya shook her head and turned to Leliana, who looked at her curiously. “Didn’t you want to kneel before the Urn?” she asked. Leliana broke into a wide grin.

“Yes,” she said softly. She took a tentative step forward and stumbled. Renya went to help her, but Leliana shook her head. “I can do this by myself,” she said determinedly.

They watched as Leliana slowly walked up the steps to the ashes. Now it was Renya’s turn to stand stiffly as she watched Leliana weakly climb the stairs one at a time, stumbling every third step or so. Finally she reached the top of the stairs and knelt before the Urn, rocking and praying. Once she was finished, she rose and kissed the Urn reverently, before gazing up at the statue with a peaceful smile on her face. She seemed to float back down the stairs; her steps had become so light. Renya studied her, a small smile tugging on the corners of her mouth.

“Leliana, you… you look wonderful,” Renya said. Leliana smiled at her.

“You don’t look too bad, yourself.”

“No, I mean… you are healthy again!”

Leliana blinked. Now that she thought about it, she realized she didn’t feel weak anymore. She gently touched her face; it was back to its usual temperature.  
“The ashes…” Zevran said in wonder. Renya nodded. There was no other explanation. She saw Leliana smiling sweetly at her and grinned back, before returning to her businesslike manner.

“Unless there’s anything else…?” She looked around, then nodded again. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They made it! Yay!
> 
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> 
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	60. Down the Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions trek down the mountain, back to their camp, but all is not quiet along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sixty chapters already? Wow! Thanks for sticking with me!

“Do you need this for anything?” Renya asked Morrigan once they were outside. She offered the apostate the vial of dragon blood. “For, I do not know, potions or something?”

“No, I do not use blood during my spellcasting,” Morrigan said, shrugging. Nyviel shook her head forcefully.

“I’ve seen enough blood mages for a lifetime,” she said when Renya turned to her.

“Alright.” Renya swirled the vial and watched as the thick liquid barely moved. With a grunt, she heaved the vial off the mountain. They stood quietly, as if waiting to hear the shatter of the glass.

Instead, a loud roar split the silence. The large black dragon from before landed heavily in front of them, scattering them with its fiery breath. Renya pushed Leliana behind a large rock.

“Stay here,” she said. When Leliana went to argue, she put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in. “Stay here, Leliana.” She pressed her bow into the bard’s hands. “Nyviel’s ice arrows should help us. Morrigan!” she yelled, turning. The witch ran over, pulling a singed feather off of the arm-guard on her shoulders.

“Warden?”

“You stay back here, too. Unless you are somehow fireproof…” she said, glancing down at the very minimal clothing that Morrigan always wore. The witch snorted.

“’Tis unlikely that I am self-extinguishing,” she said. She heard Alistair’s shout and looked up. “’Tis very likely, however, that Alistair needs your help, Warden. I will provide support from here.”

Renya nodded and ran back toward the dragon. Alistair was using his sheid against a breath of fire, and Zevran had run around to the dragon’s hind legs, swiping at them. Nyviel was staying off to the side, firing spells at it. She looked so calm and in control when she was fighting, Renya thought briefly before dodging a swipe of a dragon’s tail and then jumping in to the fray.

“So this Andraste has healed you,” Morrigan said conversationally as she shot a bolt at the dragon. Leliana aimed her arrow carefully and released it, nodding as it hit its mark.

“Yes, that is what I believe.”

“It seems there is no other option,” the witch responded. “’Tis interesting that a person holds so much power that she can heal the sick after she is dead and dust.”

“That is because She is the Maker’s chosen one, Morrigan,” Leliana said as patiently as she could, aiming another arrow. She smiled as it flew past Renya and struck the dragon’s wrist, causing it to check its movement and allowing Renya to roll out of the way of its strike.

“This Andraste is powerful, whatever else she may or may not be,” Morrigan said, raising her staff and trying to drain some of the life from the dragon. It didn’t work. Instead, she shot a bolt of energy at Alistair, shielding him from the dragon’s breath and enabling him to jab his sword into its leg.

“Why did you become a bard?”

Leliana glanced at the apostate. “Can we finish this conversation when there isn’t a dragon in front of us?” She sighed when she saw Morrigan’s face. “I don’t want to miss."  
  
“So don’t,” Morrigan advised. “But I still wish to know.”

The bard shook her head and aimed another arrow. “Lady Cecile, my benefactor after my mother died, gave me books when I was little. I learned to love stories…”

“I do not see how this is related to you becoming an assassin.” Morrigan glanced at her. “Oh, alright. Continue.”

“And she also provided me with tutors on singing, and dancing,” Leliana said as if there hadn’t been an interruption, drawing another arrow and fitting it easily. She was beginning to get back into the rhythm she once had. “The woman who eventually became my bardmaster…”

“This Marjolaine?”

“Yes,” Leliana said darkly. “She used to come to visit Lady Cecile. Both were very important women in Orlais,” she explained. “For two years, Lady Cecile would have me entertain Marjolaine with stories, songs, dancing…”

“This does not seem like something a… young woman from Orlais would do,” Morrigan commented softly. “I remember Mother asking me to entertain her guests…” she murmured. Then she shook her head. “But you are not telling me what I wish to know.” Her voice was matter-of-fact again.

Leliana sighed again. “I was thrilled. Marjolaine was a wonderful audience, and was impressed with my skill… She was so carefree, and moved purposefully in everything she did.” Her eyes came to rest on Renya, who, were it not for the swords in her hands and the dragon in front of her, looked as if she were dancing, so graceful were her movements.

“And?”

“And, soon, Marjolaine began to subtly teach me the bardic arts. She was so talented at it, that to anyone else it would have looked like a high-born lady’s idle fun. Nothing dangerous.” Leliana fired three arrows in rapid succession, aiming for the dragon’s eye. Two missed, but one hit its mark. Unfortunately it caused the dragon to breath fire again, and everyone without a shield ran for cover. Morrigan shot a spell at Alistair, who was on one knee, weakly holding his shield above him, and he rose with a yell. Nyviel shot another spell at the dragon, and the battle recommenced.

“Flirtation here, a little seduction there, how to use a bow, weild daggers, pick locks… All she taught me was harmless by itself,” the bard continued. “Lady Cecile died when I was sixteen. I was so lost,” she added sadly. “But Marjolaine attended her funeral and convinced me to come with her. She said that she could teach me the ways of the bard, now that I was no longer tied to any kind of family.” She became quiet, aiming her arrow thoughtfully. She stood poised for longer than was necessary before letting it fly.

“This story is not over,” Morrigan said, watching her carefully. Leliana shook her head.

“I was so young… I worked for her for almost eight years, learned so much… She used me as long as I was useful, and then I was discarded.” She shook her head sadly.

The witch considered her, her head tilted slightly. “I, too, know what it is like to be… used,” she said. Her tone became self-assured once more. “But that is why I no longer let myself be treated in this way.”

Leliana smiled. “Yes, you are so strong, Morrigan. You need no one, no?” Her smile widened as Morrigan glanced toward where the Wardens were still fighting the dragon. Alistair rapped his sword against his shield and Renya swung herself onto its back. The dragon brought its head down to snatch Alistair in its jaws and, at the same time, Alistair stabbed his sword into the back of the creature’s mouth while Renya jabbed her swords into the back of its head, finally bringing it down.

“She calls you lethallan. I’ve heard her,” Leliana commented gently. Morrigan nodded curtly.

“She does. And you eavesdrop.”

The bard nodded, recognizing the conversation to be over. “We’re in such a small camp, it is hard to keep secrets. But if you ever have another question for me, please ask.” She put her hand on Morrigan’s shoulder briefly. Morrigan slowly turned to look at her hand, and Leliana withdrew it again. Without another word, the witch left the cover of the rock to rejoin the rest of the group. Leliana smiled to herself and followed.

“So that, my friends, was the risen Andraste,” Alistair commented when they had reconvened. He wiped the sweat from his brow. “And may She come back as something a little cuddlier next time.”

“Come see the risen Andraste, in her cute bunny form,” Renya said sarcastically. “Somehow I don’t think the Disciples would like that as much.” She glanced at the other Warden and forced a laugh, although her eyes betrayed a much different emotion. After a moment Alistair joined in, not noticing.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Here, Renya,” Zevran said. He handed her a pile of dragon scales. “I know these are rare and can be used for many things. Perhaps we can find a smith to craft some armor?”

“Ma serannas, Zevran,” Renya said, tucking the scales into her pack. Her hand bumped against the little toy knight she had tucked to the bottom. Her heart grew heavy again. “Shall we continue?”

“Speaking of unhappy Disciples,” Leliana murmured when they had walked a little further. Down the mountain was a group of men in black armor. Kolgrim stood in the middle, his great axe held in both of his hands.

“You have destroyed Her!” he bellowed. “You have not only left the terrible Ashes intact, but you have murdered the Risen Andraste!”

“I guess those other disciples had much to fear from us, then,” Renya quipped, glaring at him. After her time in the Gauntlet, she had run out of patience, and certainly run out of patience for annoying shemlen.

“What do you have to say for yourself? You were to become a believer! A sister! A Disciple!” The man’s eyes flashed.

“The human Andraste was a friend to the elves. Your dragon Andraste tried to eat me,” the Warden replied. “I think I prefer the human one.” While not fewer in number here, the Disciples at least had lost the advantage of their archers.

“You know nothing of grace nor friendship, heathen!” Kolgrim yelled, a little spit flying out of his mouth.

Renya growled, drawing her swords and hunching like an animal preparing to attack.

“Kill them!” Kolgrim bellowed, turning to the men behind them. “Kill them all!”

Renya screamed and charged, slashing at the men as they ran at her. She decapitated two of them and had buried her sword into another before Alistair caught up with her. Arrows rained down, picking off Kolgrim’s men. She spun, twirling her swords, trying to cut through the three men attacking her. One managed to make contact with her arm. While the armor held, the dar’misu was knocked out of her hand. She heaved her longsword into him, and then kicked backwards, trying to earn herself some breathing room. She made contact and the man stumbled back, only to be stabbed by Zevran.

One by one they fell, until only their leader remained.

“You will pay for your transgressions!” he yelled, throwing a dagger at Renya. The throw was poorly done and the blade bounced off her armor. He pulled a sword from one of his fallen men as he ran at the small group and hurled it at someone behind her. She heard a gasp that sounded like Leliana’s, and turned to see her jump out of the way in time. Kolgrim raised his mighty waraxe, bearing down on her.

“Ma halam! You are finished!” Renya bellowed, thrusting her sword at him. He froze, his arms still high above his head. He collapsed with a gurgle, dropping the axe.

“My…my Lady…”

Renya wrenched her sword out and the man flopped onto the ground, dead. Resheathing her swords, she turned on her heel and marched to the edge of the precipice. She halted at the edge and stared out over the chasm, breathing heavily, feeling the necklace the specter Tamlen had given her press against her with every breath.

The pounding heartbeat in her ears was rapid. _Tamlen, the Sabrae… Merrill…_ All taken from her.

She could have gone back.

_The Guardian would have made everything alright again…_ Her face turned ugly and, taking a deep breath, she began screaming, balling her hands into fists.

_Live with the shemlen… leave her behind… become a Warden… end the Blight… leave home forever… flat-ear, knife-ear, Connor, Leliana…_

She could never go back.

She screamed again, doubling over from the effort. Finally it ended and she stood there, panting, listening as the echoes of her voice faded into the mountains.

“…Are…are you okay?” Leliana ventured some time later. Renya spun and faced her with a scowl. She turned away without comment and continued walking down the hill.

After a few silent moments, the group followed her. Leliana jogged up next to the elf, now about thirty paces in front of the rest of the group. Renya was holding on to the necklace that the ghostly elf – Leliana couldn’t remember his name – had given her, looking broken.

The Warden sighed, and Leliana fought the urge to put her arm around her. “Do I feel regret?” she asked herself mockingly. “Dirthara’ma.”

“Renya…”

Renya looked at her. “I am glad you are feeling better.”

Leliana blinked. The elf’s tone had completely changed, back to business. “You… yes, I feel much better,” she said.

“Yes. Good.” Renya nodded and pointed down the trail. “Here we are. I hope Brother Genetivi is still inside.” She walked on without another word.

Genetivi was happy to see them. “Have you found anything interesting?”

Renya nodded and handed him the vial. “What’s this?” he asked. “A little dust…? Maker,” he murmured, looking closer. “The Ashes… you found the Urn!” he said excitedly. “Tell me all about it! What was it like to stand in their presence?”

The Warden stood there, feeling very Dalish. “It was… an indescribable experience,” she said honestly.

“Oh, this is wonderful news! I must go back to Denerim and report my findings!”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Renya said. “This place would be overrun…”

“But the faithful…” Genetivi said.

“Andraste belongs to everyone,” Leliana said softly. “This is a discovery that should be shared.”

“Hm. Everyone taking a pinch of the Ashes?” Alistair asked. “I hope that Urn is self-replenishing…”

“This is a fantastic discovery, and the news must be spread. The faithful must be allowed to come and worship in front of the Sacred Urn. I will lay down my life for this if I have to,” he said, standing up straighter. Renya sighed. This, of all things, was not worth getting into a fight over.

“Ir abelas, Brother Genetivi. I am sorry. You are right. Andraste belongs to all who believe in her. I should not be selfish,” she said in defeat. Genetivi visibly relaxed.

“Good, that’s settled then.” He smiled at Renya. “You have done a wonderful thing; the next time you are in Denerim, promise you will come to see me. I must thank you properly. Now, unless there is anything else, I will take my leave.”

“I look forward to seeing you in Denerim, Brother Genetivi,” Renya said with a smile.

He bid them farewell and walked out of the temple. He seemed to vanish into the mist as he walked down the mountain.

“I am ready for a good meal and a long nap,” Renya said to Alistair once the Chantry brother was gone. “Shall we?”

Alistair’s stomach rumbled. He grinned. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always liked the idea that, in another circumstance, Leliana and Morrigan would be friends. I think they actually have a lot in common - which is maybe why they don't get along so well: they are the same in all the wrong ways and different in all the wrong ways. So this was a little self-indulgent on my part.
> 
> And... Renya. Like I've mentioned before, I like exploring how she loses her temper, because she rarely does. So all that frustration managed to push itself out a bit, here...
> 
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> 
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	61. At Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The friends arrive back at camp. Renya slips away to think but is interrupted.

Wynne, to Renya’s surprise and delight, had cooked the evening meal for them in anticipation of their return. “Welcome back,” she said kindly. “Did you find the ashes?”

Nyviel launched into a narrative about their journey, and Wynne listened, spooning soup into bowls and handing them out. She looked at Renya fondly.

“It sounds like you did well, Renya,” she said. “I am impressed at your cunning. Able to answer those riddles without knowledge of Andraste? Well done.”

Renya smiled. “Thank you, Wynne.”

They ate, Nyviel continuing the story animatedly. She got to the part about Renya finding the Ashes, and the mage stopped her.

“You truly found the Ashes?” she asked excitedly. With a tired smile, Renya pulled them out and showed her. Wynne’s face lit up and she seemed to grow younger before her eyes. “This is a wonderful moment for me,” she said softly. “And I will treasure it forever. Thank you.”

“And, look Wynne. The Ashes have already begun to work. Leliana knelt before them, and whatever was causing her illness is gone. She is healthy again!” Nyviel said happily.

“Hm. Yes, I see. I’m glad you’re better, dear,” Wynne said kindly, patting Leliana’s hand. Leliana raised one of her eyebrows. “And I am concerned that you did not listen this morning, Renya, even if it did work out,” she added, leveling her gaze on the Warden, who was slurping up her second bowl of soup. The Warden looked up innocently.

“What?” She pretended to not see Leliana replace her empty bowl with a full one.

“While I am happy for Leliana’s cure, you must know that I do not offer advice for my own well-being,” she said sternly.

“And I took your advice into account,” Renya countered. “I decided not to follow it.” She suppressed a smile as Nyviel snorted into her meal. Wynne did not look amused, however.

“Duty cannot be overruled by… friendship,” she said pointedly. Renya’s eyebrows knit together briefly. She really didn’t need this right now. Echoes of the shadow Duncan’s words were ringing through her head.

“You must leave here, and leave her behind…”

“You are right. Duty is important,” she said. She noticed Sten’s eyes on her. “I made a promise,” she added lightly. “Dalish keep their promises. That is part of my duty.”

Wynne shook her head and sighed. “Maybe you should not make so many promises, then.”

“Maybe,” Renya conceded. “But you must know something as well, Wynne. The Dalish do not receive these markings because we are naïve children.” She pointed at her vallaslin. “These are carved into our skin when we become adults. The ceremony signifies that we are able to face the responsibility, hardship, and pain that come from being an adult.” She paused. “Please remember that, and also that I am not an apprentice of yours at the Circle.” Her words were spoken lightly, but the angry flash of her eyes was hard to miss.

A short silence fell. Wynne sighed. “I do not doubt you, Renya. You are capable as a Warden,” she said before returning to her meal.

When they had finished, Zevran offered to clean up before his watch. Everyone else retired to their bedrolls. After she changed out of her armor, Leliana joined Renya and watched her meditate for a while, wondering if the elf realized she was there.

“I can hear you breathing,” the elf said some time later. Her eyes were still closed. Leliana chuckled lightly.

“What else can you hear?”

Renya’s arched an eyebrow as she listened. “I hear an owl swooping over the trees in the woods,” she said. “And Zevran’s footsteps are close to Morrigan’s tent now.” She listened some more. “Alistair is mumbling in his sleep, and Elgar is scratching himself,” she finished, making Leliana smile as the dog sitting at their feet lay down again. She opened her eyes and turned to face the bard.

“Did you want to ask me something?”

“Why would you think that?” Leliana asked playfully.

Renya shrugged, staring into the trees once more. “You just have that look in your eyes again.”

The bard nodded. “You know me too well. You mentioned… your vallaslin,” she said carefully. “These are _carved_ into your skin?”

Renya took a deep breath, trying to not feel annoyed at the innocent question. It wasn’t Leliana’s fault she was in a bad mood. Mostly.

“They are. In the common tongue, they are called blood tattoos, if that is a better description.”

“Maker…”

“Yes, they are as painful to get as they sound. And we cannot cry out, or we are deemed not ready for adulthood,” Renya said, turning back to the trees. Leliana couldn’t believe how nonchalant Renya sounded talking about this. But, she supposed, this was a part of her culture; why should it be surprising to her?

“Can I…?” She reached out toward the markings.

Renya considered her for a moment before nodding. “Of course. They do not hurt.”

Leliana traced her fingers over the tattoos. At one point they might have been black, but they had faded to a deep brown that was just a shade or two darker than Renya’s hair. She dragged her finger down the vallaslin on Renya’s nose, and the elf closed her eyes with an unconscious smile tugging on her lips.

“How old were you when you had this done?” she asked, removing her hand. Renya opened her eyes.

“I had seventeen years. Nine years ago, now,” she said, sounding somewhat surprised.

Leliana smiled and tried to remember where she was nine years ago. Nowhere she was proud of, she noted grimly. Her smile faded and her fingers went to the deep knife-scar on her side. Absentmindedly, she traced over her clothing where the scar was. She most definitely had not been quiet when receiving it… or the others.

Seeing the troubled look on the bard’s face, Renya reached over and grabbed her hand, pulling it away from Leliana’s abdomen. Leliana shook herself and smiled at Renya.

“Have I ever told you what these symbols mean?” Renya asked gently. Leliana shook her head, silently thankful that Renya had changed the subject.

“No, but I’d love to hear it…”

“Before our vallaslin ceremony,” Renya began without preamble, finally resigning herself to the conversation. “Each Dalish must meditate on the god they will devote themselves to. But my ceremony wound up having to be postponed…”

***

Leliana startled awake. Nyviel was sleeping peacefully in the bedroll next to her, and the camp was quiet. She wasn’t sure of what she had dreamed, but Renya’s tortured screams were echoing in her mind. Deciding to step outside for a little air, she soundlessly slipped out of the tent into the dark. Shale was on guard, and the golem barely paid the bard a passing glance. The fire had burned down to embers, and Leliana sat close to it, trying to stay warm. An odd sound caught her attention. She rose and, after a moment’s consideration, grabbed her daggers from her tent before going to investigate.

“The sister should be careful,” Shale said as she passed, but didn’t look too concerned. Leliana nodded and moved past her.

She followed the noise into the edge of the forest and stood quietly listening. A low growl caused her to raise her daggers warily.

“Elgar, mana,” floated Renya’s voice. It sounded sad. Leliana heard Elgar snuffle around a little, the sound getting further away. She followed it. Soon she saw two green dots glinting, staring off into the darkness.

“Renya?”

The elf sighed. “What is wrong?” She sounded more bothered at the interruption than worried about any possible problem.

“N-nothing, I just…”

“Atisha, Leliana. Then leave me alone.” The dead tone had returned.

“But I –”

“Leave me alone,” Renya repeated, a little more forcefully.

But Leliana shook her head and sat down with her back to a tree, facing Renya. “I’m not going to leave you,” she said quietly. She watched as the glints disappeared and heard Renya take a steadying breath before opening her eyes again.

“Go back to the camp,” Renya said shortly. “I do not want to talk.”

“No,” Leliana said stoutly.

“You are very irritating,” the elf clipped back.

Leliana crossed her arms, stung. Although, considering she had almost stabbed Renya the previous evening, she supposed that was the least she deserved to be called.

“So send me away,” she said, her throat constricting. She didn’t know why she said it, or what she would do if Renya agreed. But she barreled on anyway. “If I am so irritating to you, tell me to leave.” Andraste knew she would deserve it.

Renya sat silently for a few minutes, and Leliana braced herself for Renya’s angry outburst, for the elf to tell her to pack her things and leave in the morning, go back to Lothering or Orlais or wherever she wanted, so long as it was far away from the Wardens…

What she didn’t expect was for the elf to slump forward and bury her face in her hands.

“Do not leave me,” she mumbled into her hands, sounding broken and exasperated, as if she had said this too many times.

A long silence fell between them. “I won’t,” Leliana finally said. She scooted over toward Renya and put her arm tentatively around the Warden’s slumped shoulders. Renya tried to wriggle away halfheartedly. Leliana had the distinct feeling that Renya’s weariness outweighed her annoyance at Leliana’s contact.

“Don’t,” Renya said sharply, pulling away. She looked up at Leliana and shook her head. “Don’t.”

Leliana frowned. “Don’t what?”

Renya shook her head again, wishing it was Merrill sitting next to her, and olive green eyes looking at her with concern. She wished it was Merrill whose touch was comforting her. But blue eyes were staring at her, a mix of concern and apprehension in them as they looked at Renya. It was the arm of a human that was around her, adding to and easing the pain in her heart.

“Leave,” Renya whispered, defeated, burying her face in her hands again. “Just… please.”

***

Leliana woke up as the sun was rising. Her head was resting on something hard but comfortable, and she looked over to find Renya watching the sun peek over the horizon. Renya felt her stir and looked over at her.

“It is time to break the fast,” she said simply. Leliana picked her head up and stretched a little, noticing her arm looped into Renya’s. The elf rose without comment and Leliana followed her.

“I…” Renya looked at Leliana uncomfortably for a moment, before patting her shoulder awkwardly and walking over to where Alistair was just beginning to attempt to make something to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, guys. I've been having some personal stuff going on and am having trouble keeping up with things that aren't vitally necessary. I'll try to have the next chapter up in a timely fashion!
> 
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	62. Preparations and Special Supplies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party continues on to Redcliffe, but Renya makes plans at Nyviel's behest to bring a little Dalish culture to the group.

“I think I am going to know my way to Redcliffe from everywhere in Denerim by the time this Blight is over,” Renya said with a small smile a few days later.

“There’s nothing wrong with that!” Alistair said.

“Renya,” Nyviel said as she walked up next to the two Wardens. “I was thinking… I mean, I don’t want to be a bother, especially after… after Haven…” Renya smiled at the younger elf’s stammered question.

“What is it, Nyviel?”

“The new moon is coming up. We… we will not be in Redcliffe by the time it arrives, and I was wondering if… I was thinking… daenlea’nira…”

The Warden nodded with a grin. “We can definitely celebrate daenlea’nira,” she said. But she glanced at Alistair apprehensively.

“Of course!” he agreed enthusiastically. “But… can, you know, humans join in?”

“Yes, lethallin. I do not see why not,” Renya said with relief.

“Sign me up,” he said kindly, putting his hand on her shoulder amiably.

Renya’s smiled widened. She tapped her cheek thoughtfully. “We will already have a campfire, and I will prepare as much of the feast as I can. I will speak to Bodahn at once to see if he can get us some…” She glanced at Alistair conspiratorially. “Special supplies.”

He raised his eyebrow at her, glad to see her looking so happy about something again. “Special supplies? Oh ho. Are we about to see how the Dalish truly frolic?”

“You might be.” She winked. And with that she skipped off to talk to the dwarves driving behind the group.

“I think she’ll expect you to frolic along with us, Alistair,” Nyviel said playfully.

“Me? Oh, no. I don’t do frolicking. See this armor?” He tapped on it. “It doesn’t lend itself to frolicking.”

“Perhaps I will have to help you out of that armor, then,” Nyviel said, trying to sound like Leliana. Alistair turned bright red.

“I… I don’t… it’s… you…”

Nyviel laughed. “You’re too easy, Alistiar. You really are.”

“Oh, you were kidding? Oh, thank the Maker,” he mumbled. “I mean… not like that, I’m sure you’re… not that I want to… Not that I _don’t_ … but it’s not that you’re not…”

“Atisha, Alistair,” Nyviel said, smiling as the other Warden stopped talking.

“Great, now you’re sounding like her, too. And here I thought one was bad enough,” Alistair said, but his smile was friendly as he said it.

“Alistair.”

“Oh no,” Alistair muttered as Morrigan stepped up to him. “Yes?” he said carefully.

“I have a question regarding our quest.”

“And you’re asking me?”

Morrigan smiled. “The other Warden is preferable, of course, but she is in the dwarves’ cart speaking with them and does not look like she will be finished soon.”

Alistair sighed. “What do you need?”

Meanwhile, Nyviel had fallen into step alongside Leliana. Ever since their journey up to Haven and the Ashes, Leliana had been much nicer to the elf. Nyviel inwardly shook her head at the thought of Leliana being jealous of her. But the bard was looking very sad.

“Are you okay, Leliana?”

Leliana looked over at the elf. Honestly, she wasn’t sure. She had felt much more relaxed around Renya after finding out Nyviel was not romantically interested in her, but that did not mean that Renya’s feelings were similarly platonic. And Renya, as usual, alternated between being sweet and being businesslike when she spoke to Leliana, while always being relaxed and considerate toward the younger elf. Leliana frowned.

Then there was that one, brief, magical moment in her tent, which Leliana assumed she had completely ruined any chance of repeating after her actions in her fevered state. But the night she found Renya sitting in the forest after their return from Haven was still baffling to her, too.

When Leliana didn’t respond, Nyviel nodded. “You’re thinking that maybe Renya doesn’t return your affections, aren’t you?”

Leliana stayed quiet.

“Or maybe you’re thinking that Renya simply found you interesting, and now has decided that she is better off focusing on her duties as a Grey Warden?” She cleared her throat slightly. “Particularly after your… little mishap before Haven?”

The bard still remained silent. They walked along quietly.

“I said… I apologized” Leliana whispered. “… Explained that…” She swallowed and shook her head.

Nyviel grabbed her arm. “Does she ever talk about what it’s like being Dalish?”

“No. She has told me about her vallaslin, and that Dalish hate humans, but not much else,” Leliana replied with a little frown.

“Well, yes,” Nyviel replied. “While Renya may be tolerant and accepting of humans because she is a Grey Warden and has to be, she is still very Dalish. She was raised in that culture and with those beliefs…”

“So what are you trying to tell me?”

“I’m saying she’s already wary of the Chantry. And I’m saying a Chantry sister tried to stab her out of jealousy,” Nyviel said flatly. “Not a great combination, if you ask me.”

Leliana turned her head away sharply and hugged her arms around herself while they walked. In her mind's eye, she saw Renya pressing her hunting knife into her throat, putting Leliana's hand around the handle, and telling her to kill her. Renya had forgiven her, hadn't she? She hugged herself a little more tightly.

Nyviel considered her, then sighed, apparently taking pity on the poor woman.

“I’m saying that her actions might be colored by her upbringing. And I’m saying that she led a whole life with her clan before we met her. One that none of us know. And…” Her shoulders drooped when she saw Leliana’s face. She lowered her voice seriously. “I’m saying you should talk to her.”

“I can’t talk to her,” Leliana replied in a mortified whisper.

“Just because she’s Dalish, doesn’t mean she’s going to eat you or anything,” Nyviel said with a little humor, trying to make Leliana smile. It worked.

“I know that, I just…”

“So we are all settled for daenlea’nira,” Renya said, grabbing Nyviel’s shoulder. She looked at Leliana critically. “Do you think we will be able to get everyone involved?”

“Why not?” Nyviel said. “Who doesn’t like singing and dancing?”

“And stories. Mostly stories,” Renya said enthusiastically. She grinned at the younger elf. “Singing and dancing is more for evune’nira … And I believe Alistair refers to it as ‘frolicking.’ That is apparently the technical term. Dalish frolicking,” she commented with a smile.

“So, will you join us, Leliana?” Nyviel asked her with a nudge. Leliana smiled at Renya.

“I would love to frolick with you.” She turned away, embarrassed. “I mean…”

“Good. We are all settled, then,” Renya said evenly before walking back up to the front of the procession, Elgar trotting behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready. Next time, we'll be observing daenlea'nira, an entirely fictitious Dalish celebration of the stars! As a pronunciation, I think of it as something like Deen-ley-ah-NEE-rah, although I can't find anything conclusive about how apostrophes affect word inflection.
> 
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	63. A Celebration of Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renya tentatively celebrates daenlea'nira with the rest of her companions.

“So the Dalish celebrate the absence of the moon?” Wynne asked a few evenings later as Renya stood happily cooking by the fire. Zevran was next to her, helping prepare the dishes for the daenlea’nira that night.

Renya looked up at the stars with a smile. “We are celebrating the knowledge of the stars, and the presence of the creators’ world, past, present, and future. We are remembering their stories, learning from their pasts, and looking into the future with them.” She faced Wynne, still smiling but looking apprehensive again. “You do not have to join in if you do not want to, Wynne.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m actually looking forward to it. Is this a loud celebration?”

Renya adjusted her green and brown Dalish robes, relaxing a little. “No, not at all. Of the two nighttime celebrations, this is the quieter one. We will not attract any darkspawn, I promise.”

“But Wynne,” Zevran said winningly. “You must try some of this delightful food. I am not sure how Renya was able to procure all these ingredients, nor do I know many of their names, but the smell…” He sighed happily.

“I didn’t know you could cook so well, Renya,” Alistair said as he walked over.

“It could taste horrible, lethallin.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” Alistair leaned over the fire and sniffed happily. The seasoned meat was cooking on a make-shift spit, and the elves were boiling something in one of the pots that smelled absolutely heavenly. A large, fresh loaf of bread was staying warm next to the fire.

“Here it is, Renya…” Nyviel puffed, rolling a barrel over and placing it on its end. Renya did a double-take.

“You have different robes,” she said with some surprise.

Nyviel looked nervous, and was trying to ignore Leliana as her head snapped up to follow the conversation. “Yes… I… I thought these looked more… more Dalish than what I was wearing before… That was stupid of me, wasn’t it?” she finished in a mumble.

“Nae, lethallan,” Renya said kindly. She rested her hand on Nyviel’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “You look more Dalish already.” She turned back to the cooking food as a smile split Nyviel’s face. Leliana forced herself to look away.

“’Tis quite the commotion tonight,” Morrigan commented, looking up from her reading with interest.

Even Sten and Shale had walked over to see what was happening.

“And what does it think it’s doing?” the golem asked.

Renya tasted the bubbling concoction in the pot and sprinkled something into it before stirring it again. “It is getting ready for daenlea’nira, a Dalish feast day. Will you be joining it?” she asked politely.

Shale scoffed. “I should hardly think so.”

“Ma nuvenin. Sten?”

Sten was looking at the food with interest. “The qunari do not study the stars like the elves, but I am interested in the Dalish food traditions you are preparing.”

Zevran nudged Renya. “Dalish food traditions. Gets them every time, yes?”

Finally the evening meal was ready and everyone sat around the campfire. Renya took a deep breath and glanced at Nyviel and Zevran nervously. Alistair sat down near the fire, watching Renya as one might watch a precocious child.

But Renya didn’t notice. She had never led the daenlea’nira before… Of course she knew the prayers and the stories, but it was the hahren who always spoke them. But, she supposed, with no other Dalish elves around, she was the hahren. She gulped.

“How does it start?” Leliana asked, watching Renya as she fiddled with her ring.

Renya twisted the ring on her finger once more before rising. Everyone looked up at her.

“Tonigh we observe daenlea’nira, the celebration of the stars,” she said, trying to imitate Hahren Marathari’s soothing, confident voice.

“Renya,” Wynne commented softly. “I don’t wish to offend you, but… While I respect your traditions, I am not sure this old body will be able to stay up and study the stars all night with you… I hope it isn’t offensive if I have to leave.”

Renya smiled, touched at the sentiment. “That is no problem, Wynne. You are free to come and go as you please.”

Morrigan, who had perched herself just outside of the group, nodded.

“’Tis interesting the Dalish are so accommodating during their religious rites, when the Chantry frowns on such disruptions, does it not?”

“Oh, I could just be outnumbered, Morrigan,” Renya said jokingly, seeing Alistair open his mouth to start arguing.

Sten rose without comment and walked away. He stood in front of his tent, continuing to eat the meat he had taken from one of the plates. Renya watched him go, and glanced over to Wynne and Morrigan sitting with eerily matching expressions of interest.

“Are we really going to be worshipping the stars?” Alistair asked now, uncharacteristically sounding like he was about to reprimand. Nyviel wondered why Renya didn’t look more offended. She simply sighed. But when she turned to Alistair, her expression changed.

“You do not have to stay if you do not want to,” she said softly, barely concealing the hurt in her voice. The other Warden looked uncomfortable.

“Well, I…” he stammered, glancing around at the remaining traveling companions. His eyes came to rest on Leliana. Leliana caught his glance and resolutely turned her attention back onto Renya. The other Warden sighed. “Just don’t make me frolic,” he said with a half-smile.

“Really, Alistair,” Morrigan said with a huff. She, too, looked back at Renya. “Continue, Warden. I am looking forward to learning more of your Dalish culture.” Her eyes were oddly bright.

“Daenlea’nira,” Renya said again, uncertain. “The celebration of the stars. It is a time when we gather together to remember our past and share the stories of the Elvhen, the People. We retell the lessons of Arlathan, and speak the story of Halamshiral, the end of our long walk to freedom.”

She paused and looked around. Nyviel was sitting with her elbows on her knees, enthralled. Zevran was next to her, his head tilted to one side thoughtfully. Morrigan was staring at her unblinkingly and appeared to be very interested in her words.

“It is a walk that continues to this day,” Renya continued. “Listen, and remember. We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last of the Elvhen.” She paused, looking somber. Her gaze was far away, over the heads of her companions. “And never again shall we submit.”

Renya stopped and shifted her gaze between the humans. “We usually invoke our gods at this point.” She pulsed her jaw. “I do not wish to offend your beliefs, but neither do I wish to omit these prayers as if I am ashamed…”

“Well…” Alistair began. “To be honest, I don’t think that we should really –”

“No, it is no problem,” Leliana interrupted swiftly before he could continue. She looked at Renya, who was watching him with barely-concealed disappointment. “We have joined your celebration. Encouraged it, even,” she added, shooting a look at Alistair, who glanced away guiltily. “Please continue as you would with your people.”

Renya managed a smile, touched. She still couldn’t quite quell the feeling she had of being observed and studied, but at least the group was being polite about it, for the most part. She spread her arms as if welcoming the group around the fire. “We invoke the protection of our creator gods. Mythal, preserve us,” she began gravely.

She picked up a waxy stick from a pile at her feet and threw it into the fire. The scent from the fire turned sweet. “Elgar’nan, give us strength.” Another stick was added to the fire. She continued to add incense for each god she invoked. “Falon’din, calm our souls…” She noticed Leliana cock her head with interest at the name she knew from Renya’s bow. The elf picked up a small handful of something and tossed it into the fire. The fire sprang up and dark smoke billowed out. Leliana and Nyviel gasped and pulled back a little.

“Dirthamen,” Renya said, bowing a little. “Uncloud our eyes.” The smoke cleared and the fire returned to its original size. “Ghilan’nain,” she continued, adding another stick of incense while still bowed. “Speed our steps.” She straightened and tossed in another stick. “Andruil, aim us true. Sylaise,” she finished, sounding sad. “Guide us home.” She knelt and bowed in front of the sweet-smelling fire until her forehead touched the ground. Nyviel quickly slipped off the log and copied her.

“We look to you, Creator Gods,” Renya said, still kneeling prone. “For guidance, for protection. We remember and revere you, and look forward to the happy time in our future when all Elvhen are united once again.” She rose to her knees and smiled when she saw Nyviel kneeling next to her. Nyviel heard Renya move next to her and rose as well, her face matching the somberness of the older elf as she stood again. Renya nodded at her, and Nyviel took her seat next to Leliana.

Renya walked over to the barrel Nyviel had rolled over earlier in the evening and pried off the top. A deep red wine released its fruity bouquet into the air. Renya dipped a bowl into it and returned to the fire. She raised it to about eye-level.

“We remember, always, the sacrifices of the Elvhen,” she said. “We honor them and learn from them, in the hope of finding a better tomorrow.” She took a drink from the bowl and passed it to Zevran, who was seated to her right. She began to sing, wishing the others knew the words and could join in.

“Melava inan enansal…”

Zevran passed the bowl to Alistair, who took it gingerly and hesitated. He didn’t want to offend Renya, and although he was not a templar, he believed in the Maker, not the Dalish gods. He watched his friend for a moment more before sighing, raising the bowl in a salute to her, and taking a drink. He walked the bowl over to Leliana, who took it solemnly and drank without hesitation.

Alistair frowned at her willingness to partake in a ritual so heathen… _so not what the Maker or Andraste blessed,_ he corrected himself quickly, feeling bad at the reflexive judgement of his fellow Warden’s beliefs. Nyviel drank last before returning the bowl to Renya.

“We take spirit from the long ago, yet do not let our hearts dwell in lands no longer ours,” Renya said. “We pray for certainty in our times of need, and ask that the right path emerge to our homes. Then, time will be the joy it once was.” She took another drink.

Zevran and Nyviel wore matching looks of interest, although Nyviel showed a hunger in her eyes that Renya had seen on other city elves that had rejoined the Dalish. Her heart swelled at the thought. She would be proud for this elf mage to rejoin the People. Renya sat down again.

The fire was beginning to burn low, the scent of the incense still heavy in the air, and Alistair moved to add another log but Renya held out her hand to stop him. “We have the stars tonight,” she said simply. She smiled at his hesitation, but he returned to his seat.

Leliana blinked a few times. The scent of the incense was fogging her mind. The strong wine, which had been passed around again as Renya told the story of Halamshiral, wasn’t helping either. Alistair looked similarly affected; when he swiveled back to his seat, he gripped the edge of the log as if he was about to fall over. He shook his head and blinked. The elves, Leliana noticed with some interest, seemed unaffected. Morrigan, too, appeared as alert as ever, although she was still seated just outside the circle, observing rather than participating. Wynne had slipped away sometime when Renya was speaking, presumably to go back to her tent.

“What’s next?” Nyviel whispered.

Renya smiled at her. The fire was very low by now. “My favorite part. I will tell the tale of the fall of the Dales, and then…” She glanced up at the star-riddled sky. “We will trade stories of the heavens.” She sighed contentedly, but Leliana noticed that her eyes still looked sad.

“Hear, lethallen, the fall of the Dales,” Renya began, sitting up straight as she prepared to tell the story. She closed her eyes, trying to picture Hahren Paival’s voice telling the story. For a moment, she wished she was home, listening to his deep, calm voice speak the familiar words.

“Hear the tale of what makes us, well…” She glanced around with a small smile. “Hear the tale of what makes the Dalish elves Dalish. Long ago,” Renya continued, glancing at Leliana. “We were slaves to the humans. Slaves to a terrible empire the humans built on the darkest magic…”

“The Tevinter Empire…” Leliana whispered. Renya nodded.

“When the Empire fell, we became free. Our freedom is owed to the elf called Shartan, and his alliance with Andraste,” she added as an aside, making the bard smile. “Once we were free, we built a homeland in the Dales, worshipping the Creators and rebuilding the culture and history we lost during our long slavery. But eventually, the Shantri forgot that Andraste had once called Shartan her champion…”

She glanced around the fire as she told the story, wishing again she was back with her clan and that it was Hahren Paivel talking. She suppressed a smile as Leliana watched her with interest, most likely drawing parallels between her version of the story and Renya’s. As the story ended, the Warden took a deep breath.

“To survive and preserve our culture, the clans now stay apart, until the day the Elvhen have a homeland once more. We shall,” she said, looking at Nyviel again, “return the old ways to those who have lost them. We are the Dalish,” she said again, her gaze sweeping over the gathered group. “Keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last of the Elvhen, and…”

“Never again shall we submit,” Nyviel murmured along with Renya. The older elf smiled at her.

“I had no idea,” Alistair said after a short silence. “I knew… the Chantry declared an Exalted March on the Dales, but… the Chantry does not mention the loss of your culture. The Dalish, I mean.” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “And I never thought about it, or even wondered about it,” he added with realization. “Renya I’m… I’m so sorry…”

The elf smiled sadly. “Do not apologize, lethallin. I never wondered about human culture, either. But, come,” Renya said presently. “Not all these stories must be sad. The fire is quite low now, and the stars are easier to see.”

Alistair stifled a yawn. Renya chuckled. “If you want to go to bed, I will not be offended.”

“It’s the hour, not the company,” Alistair insisted. “We walked a long way today, and…”

“You are not used to Dalish incense. Or our wine.” Renya shook her head. “Rest well, Alistair.”

Renya sat down on the ground, and watched as Nyviel, Leliana, and Zevran all followed her lead. Morrigan stayed on the log she was on, studying them.

“I am interested in what you have said, Warden,” she said now. “The Dalish also put their faith in things unseen? The Dalish gods do not answer your prayers, any more than the Maker does.”

“They do not,” Renya said. “But we believe that the gods are part of our world and, when we devote ourselves to one, they become a part of us.” She pointed at her vallaslin. “We are called on to act in this way; we are called to bring the works of the gods to the earth. Perhaps I should tell the story of Fen’Harel and how he locked away the Creator Gods and the Forgotten Ones?”

***

It was very late. Renya had finished the story of Fen’Harel, which had turned seamlessly into the story of Elgar’nan and Mythal, the Elvhen story of the creation of the world and the other Dalish gods. Leliana noted the excitement in Renya’s voice as she referenced this as her favorite story, and tried to pay special attention to it so she would be able to repeat it one day.

The wine was passed around again. Nyviel had then shyly asked to tell an old fable she had learned at the Tower, and did so with a halting voice, although the story had been interesting. This had prompted Zevran to ask to tell a story he had heard once about Sylaise, which had then turned into an explanation of his life as an Antivan Crow and his upbringing, first by his mother, then in a brothel.

“…and so, that’s when I learned what a cherry float was…” he finished. Renya was the only one who laughed. They were lying on the grass a little way from the smoldering fire. Morrigan had long retired to her tent. The elf turned her head toward Nyviel and Leliana, both looking distinctly not amused, before turning back to Zevran again.

“Well I thought it was funny.”

“Thank you, my lovely Warden,” he said with a wink. “Your appreciation for my off-color stories is noted. Perhaps you have a few of your own?”

“Perhaps I do,” Renya said playfully. “But that would be a secret you will never find out!”

“Oh ho!” Zevran chuckled. “Our Warden has a luscious, mysterious side! One day, my dear, we must compare notes.”

Renya laughed. Leliana interrupted, her voice sounding a little strained.

“You mentioned Falon’din earlier,” she said. “Do you know his story?”

“Of course,” Renya replied, turning to the bard. She noted that Leliana had scooted closer to her in the dark. Nyviel, her head by Leliana’s but lying in the opposite direction, appeared to have noticed as well, and she shook her head knowingly.

“Falon’din and Dirthamen were brothers, and completely inseperable…” Renya began. She began to weave the tale of the pair, pointing up at the constellations as the story unfolded. When she reached the part of Dirthamen being alone after Falon’din guided a wounded deer to the Beyond, she felt cold fingers grip her warmer ones. Hesistatingly she held Leliana’s hand and continued the story.

“…but Dirthamen fooled the crows Fear and Deceit, knowing their thoughts and words to be false, and forced them to bring him to the Beyond. He found his brother Falon’din and the released spirit of the deer, now whole and young again. They rejoiced upon finding each other, and Falon’din vowed to remain and carry all the dead to their place in the Beyond. And Dirthamen stayed with him, for the twins cannot bear to be apart,” she finished. Silence fell over the little group.

Glancing around, Renya smiled when she saw Zevran sleeping lightly in the grass. Nyviel, too, appeared to have succumbed to the hour, and she lay curled up, a peaceful smile on her face. Renya stood and gently pulled Leliana to her feet. The bard was a little unsteady; she hadn’t realized up until that point how much of the strong Dalish wine she had consumed. The elf steadied her.

“Was this like daen… dan…”

Renya smiled. “Daenlea’nira,” she said slowly.

“Dee-neyah neerah,” Leliana copied, closing her eyes as she heard the mispronunciation. She opened her eyes and felt better when she saw Renya’s smile.“I mean, the type of… you know, with your clan?”

Renya nodded with a little shrug. “Yes. We tell stories of the gods, but we also share clan history, which is easier with more people with common backgrounds.” She nudged Leliana a little. “Speaking of the history of this group would be brief: ‘Alistair and I are the remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden, and we have to unite the country. Along the way, we are meeting friend and foe, and our group has multiplied in number more than we could have imagined.’ Story over!”

“You could tell the story of how you became a Grey Warden,” Leliana said tentatively. “…What caused the fierce, daring Dalish elf to become so…selflessly involved in the human world. Or perhaps,” she amended, seeing the elf’s face darken. “You could speak of your heroics at Ostegar?”

“I do not wish to speak of either of those things,” the Warden commented shortly. “There is nothing heroic about what I have done or why I am here.” She gripped the smooth necklace she had received at the Temple, staring through Leliana’s shoulder. Her fingers found her father’s amulet and held that, too. Her hand shook a little.

Leliana slowly reached out and grabbed Renya’s shoulder. The elf seemed to rouse herself and finally looked at the bard.

“Your hands are so cold,” she commented. “You should return to your tent. I – we cannot have you becoming ill again.”

Leliana sighed. “Just one more story?”

Renya considered her. She didn’t respond.

“Maybe the story of Elgar’nan and Mythal?” Leliana offered. It was the first thing she thought of, especially since it was Renya’s favorite and she still wished to learn it.

“I told you that story already. You do not want me to tell it again.”

“Yes I do,” Leliana said bluntly. She swallowed. “It must be your Dalish accent,” she added, trying for humor. “It gets me every time.”

The bard startled at the abrupt change in the elf’s expression. Her brows were furrowed as she searched Leliana’s eyes for something. Finally Renya spoke.

“Why do you want to hear it again?” Her face was tense.

Leliana looked away. “I… I loved hearing how, after the sun became jealous of Elgar’nan and destroyed the world, Mythal forgave him and only asked for him to return each night,” she whispered. She chanced a glance at Renya, who was now watching her thoughtfully. “It’s also your favorite, isn’t it?”

“Ma nuvenin,” Renya replied softly, her face unreadable once again. “Come, before your hands completely turn to ice.”

Leliana woke the next day, smiling. She opened her eyes and looked around while she stretched. She stopped mid-movement. Her tent was empty. Really, she shouldn’t have been surprised, but she had fallen asleep with Renya telling her a story. Without realizing it, Leliana had simply expected the elf to stay in the tent with her, watching over her as she often did when Leliana fell asleep outside. Maybe she was right outside the flap… She peeked out and saw Renya sitting on her bedroll on the other side of the fire, meditating and facing the forest. Leliana sighed, closed the flap, and began preparing for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quiet sort of ceremony, isn't it? I liked the idea of Alistair and Leliana sort of having different ideas about participating, especially since Alistair was the one who originally pointed out Leliana's prejudice against elves, and now the table turned a little. Even moreso because he's the one who originally encourages her, and yet isn't willing to participate. A nice little juxtaposition of what it means to really be accepting, I guess.
> 
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	64. Those That Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynne questions Leliana's participation in daenlea'nira. A darkspawn attack takes Renya by surprise.

“You partook of the Dalish ceremony,” Wynne said to Leliana as they walked. The bard nodded.

“I did.”

“Were you not a sister of the Chantry?”

“I was.” Leliana hesitated. “I am, still. You can not ever really leave the Maker, Wynne. You know this.”

“Yes, I do know this. But I wonder why you were so eager to join in. You could have observed as Morrigan did, or…”

“Have you had this same conversation with Alistair? He most definitely joined in, as well,” Leliana said pointedly.

But Wynne shook her head. “He joined in because he did not wish to disappoint his fellow Warden. You joined in because…”

“I did not wish to disappoint my friend,” Leliana said gently.

“You seemed far too eager for that,” the mage replied flatly, remembering how happy Renya had looked when Leliana had so willingly joined the celebration.

Leliana frowned. “What do you want me to say, Wynne? Yes, I joined in. This seemed important to Renya. Maker knows how much she has willingly, and sometimes unwillingly, seeped herself in the Chantry for me – for us,” she argued.

“So you were merely returning a favor?”

The bard hated how lightly she was asked that question.

“Perhaps she considered it payment for story time,” came Renya’s voice from behind them. The Warden walked up and smiled at the two women. “I did not think you were so religious, Wynne.”

“I am not. Not really. I believe, to some extent,” Wynne replied. “It… it does not govern my life, however.”

“So why do you work for the Shantri?” Renya asked with a frown. Leliana stayed quiet, feeling like a trap was being set.

Wynne was thoughtful. “I do what I do… because I enjoy it; because I enjoy teaching others, helping them. I do not seek recognition from my works. I do not seek the approval of my peers, nor the approval of a distant god.”

Renya nodded her head, looking interested. “That is very admirable, doing good for good’s sake,” she said. She smiled at Wynne kindly. “You remind me of my clan’s keeper sometimes. Always doing what you think is best.” It was true. She could meddle just as much, too, but Renya decided to keep that to herself.

“Thank you, Renya,” Wynne said, flattered.

“But,” Renya continued, rubbing her vallaslin. “What I do not understand is, if you do not believe strongly in the Chantry’s Maker, why do you take offense at Leliana’s participation?”

Leliana’s eyes widened. Perhaps, she thought, Renya was much subtler than she let on. Or the elf was simply the most honest person she had ever met.

“The… hypocrisy,” Wynne said, not looking at Leliana. The bard was sure that wasn’t the true reason, but stayed silent. “Say that you believe in one thing, and then act as if you believe something else.”

Renya, if possible, looked more confused than before. “Do you believe in the Elvhen creators, Leliana?”

_Take a deep breath, Leliana._ “No,” she said softly. Renya didn’t look offended, merely interested.

“Did you take the wine to honor them?”

“…No.”

“Then why did you?” Renya’s tone was simply curious, but Leliana superimposed accusation into it.

“For you,” she whispered, wishing Wynne wasn’t around.

“For…?” Renya shook her head again. “This does not seem like hypocrisy, Wynne,” the elf said with satisfaction. She shrugged. “I hope my customs did not offend you, and I hope you do not think I am trying to turn anyone away from their beliefs…?”

Wynne sighed. “No, Warden. Thank you. Excuse me.” And she held back to walk beside Nyviel.

Renya looked at Leliana incredulously.

“For me?”

“I would… anything…” Leliana murmured. Renya arched an eyebrow at her, small smile playing on her lips, and knocked their shoulders together before wandering over to walk near Alistair. The other Warden was whistling and swinging his arms, enjoying the clear day.

“She’s a Warden.” Wynne had appeared next to Leliana again. She saw the bard’s face and hardened her heart. “Her focus will always be the Blight and the good of the country. It must be. You know this.”

“You fear I will be a distraction in some way?” Leliana asked curtly.

“I also fear for you. You may never have what it is you want, and then will always be unhappy,” Wynne began. “You deserve happiness, Leliana.”

A long pause followed this.

Wynne sighed. “You must also realize that Renya’s mind must remain clear and focused, unimpeded by any other endeavor.”

“So you think I will be distracting, then?” Leliana was staring at the road, looking as impassive as Wynne had ever seen her look.

“I think you already are.” Looking away, Wynne marched off and walked by herself, sighing as she went. Leliana watched as the two Wardens traveled side by side, Alistair chatting with Renya animatedly. The taller Warden laughed, clapping his hands, and Renya joined in, shaking her head.

Leliana swallowed the lump in her throat.

***

“It’s so cold. Maybe we should set up more tents?” Leliana suggested a few days later. “It would not do well for our Wardens to freeze to death…”

Alistair sighed. “We don’t have anymore. Remember? The two big ones broke the other night in that wind.”

It had been terrible. They had set up camp on an open stretch of land, which resulted in their tents being assaulted by the cold wind all night. The two Alistair mentioned had been blown into trees, breaking like brittle firewood.

“Once we’re in Redcliffe, we can reassess our supplies… and money,” Renya offered.

So it was decided that Nyviel, Leliana, Wynne, and Morrigan would use the remaining two tents, and Renya, Alistair, Sten, and Zevran would face the cold until they returned to the arl’s. Shale smugly reminded them that, for a golem, the cold was not an issue in the slightest.

“For I am not like the squishy companions that I now travel with,” the golem said.

Either way, Renya was glad to curl up in her bedroll. The day had been long and cold, and it had started to snow toward the middle of the day. She dragged her roll as close to the fire as she dared and climbed inside, opening the material so Elgar could climb in with her. He curled up at her feet immediately, and she pulled the material over her head. Zevran walked by and nudged her with his foot.

“Have a good night, my lovely Warden,” he said with a smile.

“You too, my flirtatious Antivan.” Her voice was muffled by the material. Zevran chuckled and walked away toward where Alistair’s tent was set up. Wynne was inside it, and Alistair had, like Renya, set up his bedroll on the ground and wrapped himself up.

Renya fell asleep within minutes.

***  
_The cavern was dark. A horrible sound, like a gross perversion of what music should be, filled the shadows and made Renya want to cower in fear and disgust. Suddenly, a flame leapt up and a terrible roar pierced through the music, rattling the air and shaking Renya to her bones. A huge, black-scaled dragon rose up, its armored head terrible in the dim light and its eyes glowing red with malice. Renya crouched lower, trying to keep it from seeing her, but it was no use. The dragon stared directly at her and opened its mouth wide. Another terrible roar filled the air._

Renya woke with a jolt and ripped the material of her bedroll off her head. Alistair was sitting up, panting.

“Did you see that, too?” Alistair asked. Renya nodded.

“Was that the…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word “archdemon.” But Alistair’s look answered her anyway.

“It was like it was looking right at me,” he said, his eyes wide and staring. He couldn’t conceal the fear in his voice. “What do you think it means… Wait, did you hear that?”

Renya gritted her teeth. The music was playing in her head, and she and Alistair turned in the same direction in time to hear Nyviel call out:

“Darkspawn!”

Renya and Alistair both jumped out of their rolls, and Elgar wiggled his way from under the blankets, charging for the nearest monster. With a flourish, Renya grabbed her swords off the ground next to her, and Alsitair grabbed his sword and shield. Sten was already loping toward the group of darkspawn, and Morrigan and Zevran, further away from the action, were hurrying over.

They needn’t have bothered. Only four or five darkspawn had attacked the camp, and were quickly dealt with by the Wardens. The little group walked back to their tents with varying degrees of worry.

“We should consider having greater defensive measures for the camp,” Sten commented to no on in particular. He and Alistair began discussing possible solutions that would also be transferable from one camp to another.

“How terrible,” Wynne said. “Thank the Maker the Wardens can sense them…”

“I don’t think I’ll be sleeping well tonight,” Nyviel commented quietly.

“Well, ‘tis over now,” Morrigan said evenly. “Let us rest while we can and leave early in the morning…”

Renya, however, was distracted by one dark figure that was standing in the shadows, looking at her. It seemed familiar, somehow. She walked over and saw a grey, bald, and blotchy-skinned elf wearing the green armor of the Sabrae clan, although the armor was dirty and ripped. The vallaslin was distorted by the patchy skin.

“Lethallan!” The voice was raspy, but familiar.

_No,_ Renya thought horribly. “Tamlen?”

“Nae…” the tormented creature rasped in Dalish. “Nae… stay away… stay away from me!” With that, the creature turned and ran a few strides away. Renya followed, her throat constricting.

“Tamlen! Wait!”

Tamlen turned and looked at his old friend with sadness in his brown eyes. They were the only part of him that looked the same as Renya remembered them. “Do not… look at me!” he implored. “I am… sick!”

“Tamlen,” Renya said desperately. “What has happened to you? We can help you, it is alright…”

“No!” Tamlen shook his head violently. “No… help for me… The song… in my head. It… calls to me. He… sings to me!” The elf was distraught. “I can’t stop it!” He made as if to jump at her, but then checked himself. “Don’t want… to hurt you, lethallan,” he panted. “Please… stop me…”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Tamlen…”

“Please…lethallan… Renya…”

“No, Tamlen… Please. Come back…” Renya said, her voice wavering. “Remember… you showed me how to make arrows? And… how when we were little we used to pretend that we were protecting the clan from shemlen… Poor Merrill wound up having to be the human and we chased her around camp until Marathari told us to stop…”

Tamlen’s face broke into a smile, and for a brief moment he looked like his old self. “You… tackled her… She laughed…” He face fell and he blinked at her, looking forlorn.

“That is right, Tamlen. You remember. It will all be okay…” Renya said, reaching out toward him. But he pulled away with a shake of his head.

“No, lethallan… please, Renya. Release me… The song… his call…” He shuddered, and fixed his eyes, still kind and brown and completely Tamlen, on hers.

“Do not ask me to kill you, lethallin. Please Tamlen…” Renya’s voice cracked. “Do not ask me. I cannot do that.”

Tamlen shook his head slowly, his eyes tragic. “Then I will leave you no other choice. Ir abelas. I am so sorry, lethallan. Never… wanted this…"

“Me neither, lethallin…”

Did you fail Tamlen? The Guardian’s words echoed in Renya’s mind. You left him to his fate, all alone in that cavern.

“You…safe…”

“You…” Renya squinted at him. “You carried me to the entrance of the cave…” The shadows had been true, then.

“… always… love you…” he replied sadly.

And he lunged at her. Renya danced away from him, her empty hands outstretched.

“This is my fault,” she said, forgetting what the specter Tamlen had told her. “I am so sorry. I never wanted this, either. Any of it…”

But Tamlen was no longer listening, or was forcing himself to ignore her. He swiped at her again, and she heard Alistair’s voice yelling.

“No!” she cried as Tamlen pounced on her, knocking her to the ground. “Tamlen, please don’t do this!”

“Renya! Hold on!” Alistair’s voice was getting closer.

“Help me, lethallan…” Tamlen rasped at her. “Please, Renya… release me…”

Something whistled through the air. Tamlen gasped, eyes wide. With a terrible gurgle, he collapsed in a heap on top of her. An arrow was lodged deep in his throat. Another horrible gurgle, a few twitches, and Tamlen lay still, his head on Renya’s shoulder.

Alistair ran up to her, sword drawn. “Are you alright?”

Renya nodded, her throat too tight to speak as she rolled out from under Tamlen. She looked over at her best friend, now lying dead and distorted on the ground.

“…Did you… did you know him?”

“His name was Tamlen,” Renya said in a small voice as she stood up. She looked haunted. Alistair’s face softened.

“Tamlen? That was your… Oh, Renya. I’m so sorry,” he said gravely. “I’m sorry it came to this. But this is what happens when the taint goes unchecked. It was… a mercy, really.” He gripped her shoulder and she nodded vaguely, not really paying attention.

He sighed and released her, walking back to the campfire. On his way, he almost stepped on a long piece of wood half-hidden in the grass. Stooping to look at it, he saw that it was a bow. Renya’s bow. He arched an eyebrow. Only one person was as good with a bow as Renya, and she was staring at the dying flames of the campfire resolutely, her red hair mussed from sleep.

Alistair shook his head and left the bow where it was. He sat down next to Leliana without looking at her. They both sat facing determinedly away from the elf as they heard a sorrowful wail come from the shadows behind them.

Leliana began to rise, but Alistair grabbed her arm. Their eyes met, and he shook his head sadly. She nodded and resumed her seat with a sigh. Nyviel, sitting on the ground next to Leliana, looked up at the bard with concern. Leliana had looked horrified as she watched Renya be attacked, and had run and grabbed Renya’s bow, fitted an arrow, and fired long before Alistair had a chance to reach her. The bard had seen Renya’s face after she had rolled out from under the creature and had dropped the bow where she stood, backing away slowly.

“Leliana…”

“I know.”

Renya was kneeling in the grass, sobbing over Tamlen’s body. She pulled the arrow from his throat, feeling nauseous when she saw the thick dark blood on the arrow and trickling from the wound. It wasn’t fair…

She collapsed onto him again, not caring if anyone heard her crying, daring anyone to approach her and challenge her for mourning a friend, a clan, a life she had lost months ago and yet hadn’t lost until now.

“Ir abelas, lethallin… Ir abelas, ma’vhenan…” she cried into his chest. “Ara ma’vhenas; I want us to go home, Tamlen… I want to go home…” She sat back on her heels. “Ame amin noamin…. Why am I the one who survived?…”

He had to be buried. Renya was sure of that. There was no way she would allow the body of her friend to remain above-ground like the corpse of an animal. He was an honorable Dalish elf, and her lethallin. He would receive a proper burial. She bent over him, lips close to his ear, resting her forehead on his.

“Swiftly do stars burn a path across the sky,” she murmured in Dalish. “Hastening to place one last kiss upon your eye. Tenderly land enfolds you in slumber, softening the rolling thunder. Dagger now sheathed, bow no longer tense. During this, your last hour, only silence.” She sat up again, tears still streaming down her face as she folded his hands across his chest and gently closed his eyes.

“Hahren na melana sahlin…”

Renya’s voice cracked as she continued singing the eulogy of the elves, the notes wavering in an out of hearing. Leliana, still sitting on the log, found herself holding back tears, as well. Alistair patted her knee without looking at her.

“…Vir sulahn’nehn, vir dirthera. Vir samahl la numin, vir lath sa’vunin…”

The last words were barely audible as Renya bowed low over her friend’s body again, tears running down her face freely.

Leliana and Alistair continued to listen as Renya sang through the song again, the melody warbling and halting as she mourned. Eventually the notes faded into soft sobs.

It was close to dawn where Leliana was awoken by a hand grabbing her shoulder. She startled, but relaxed when she saw Renya staring down at her. The bard shivered; Renya’s eyes looked empty.

“What is it?” she murmured, sitting up. She had pulled her bedroll out of her tent in the hopes of staying warm while she waited for Renya to return, and had instead fallen asleep. Alistair and Nyviel had retired sometime during the early morning hours, as well.

Renya pushed the bow into her hands. Leliana grabbed it, confused.

“That was Tamlen,” Renya said, sitting down on the ground with a thump. “And he was the one who made this bow. No one can escape the breath of Falon’din when it comes for them, even when its owner leaves it at home…” Leliana reached out to her, but Renya pulled away with a shake of her head.

Leliana felt terrible. Alistair had whispered to her about Tamlen, said that he had been lost during the circumstances that caused Renya to become a Grey Warden, but he had been vague on details. The only thing he had emphasized was that Tamlen had been Renya’s friend since childhood, and they had never been apart up until Tamlen had gone missing.

…and she had killed him with his own bow.

“I never wanted this.”

“What?”

“I never wanted this,” Renya repeated, taking in the camp with a sweep of her hand. She dragged her fingers across the griffon on her armor absentmindedly. “Any of it.” She finally looked at Leliana. “He has a little girl, you know. She will have six years this spring. And a falon’saota – a bonded…” The elf shook her head. _And he saved my life, fought the taint long enough so I could be safe._

“Renya, I’m so…”

“I will end this Blight,” the Warden interrupted, rising angrily. She glared at Leliana, unseeing. “I will end this Blight and send the darkspawn and the archdemon back to the banalhan they came from. I do not care what it takes,” she added ferociously, rage flashing in her eyes. “It has taken too much from me. It has destroyed too many lives.”

She stomped away before Leliana could say anything else. Leliana watched as Renya walked over to a mound of dirt that was eerily the length of a body and knelt at one end of it. Laying her hands on the freshly-turned earth, Renya began to chant something that Leliana couldn’t hear. Her eyes widened and she rose in shock as Renya removed her hands. From the mound sprouted a small sapling. Renya knelt back, arms outstretched, and spoke what sounded like a Dalish prayer. She bowed her head silently for a few more minutes before rising and returning to the campfire. Leliana watched without comment as Renya packed up her bedroll and sat facing the trees stoically, eyes closed and hands resting on her knees. One last, lone tear trickled down her cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all knew this was coming, right? Sigh.
> 
> But at least Renya liked that Leliana participated in daenlea'nira just for her. So... progress on that front, I suppose.
> 
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> 
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	65. Little Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions continue to Redcliffe; some are concerned about Renya.

Morrigan walked next to Renya, quietly watching the elf out of the side of her eye. Renya had barely said a word since the darkspawn incident two evenings ago, and had snapped at Alistair’s poor attempt to make her smile with one of his terrible jokes. Nyviel was wisely staying away, as were Wynne and Zevran, but Morrigan had seen the tiniest of glances shot her way and positioned herself next to the Warden, feeling more protective than she had in a while.

It was nice, in a way, having the Warden single her out like this. She knew how much others in the group, particularly Leliana, tried to capitalize Renya’s time, but appreciated that the elf seemed to make space for her, even if it meant silently walking side-by-side. It was something they both liked, being able to appreciate nature independently, without the confusing chatter of the other compaions, but still with someone by your side in peaceful coexistence. It wasn’t a feeling the witch was used to, and she liked it.

Perhaps that was what it was, Morrigan reflected. Both she and Renya were outsiders in this world, she because of her upbringing in the social isolation of the Wilds with only Flemeth to guide her, and Renya because Elvhen culture was so different from that of humans. More than once the witch had seen Renya fumble through conversations with humans, usually having to be rescued by either Alistair or Leliana.

She noticed the elf’s ears twitch and her head turn slightly.

“Renya?” Leliana had come up to check on her.

The elf grunted in response.

“We… we were wondering if you wanted to stop traveling early today, get a little more rest…?”

Renya shrugged. “I am fine.” She continued staring straight ahead. “If you want to stop, we can,” she added politely.

“Oh. Well, we were just thinking that… because of what happened… you… you would…”

“You think I have not had to move on from heartache before?”

Leliana sighed. “Not like this, no,” she said quietly.

“Leliana, I do not think the Warden wants to speak of this right now,” Morrigan cut in. “If we are to make camp, then let us. Otherwise, she has made it clear that we are to continue walking.”

“I only…” Leliana shook her head, annoyed at Morrigan.

Renya finally glanced over at her. “It is fine, Leliana. We can keep going. We need to get back to Redcliffe as quickly as possible. Sadness does not keep me from walking.”

“I’m… we’re just worried about you…”

“Tel’enfenim. You worry too much.”

“It’s only…”

“Leliana.” Renya looked at her and shook her head. The bard nodded and glanced away.

“Let’s… let’s keep walking, then.” She paused. “Have I ever told you about…”

“Really?” Morrigan deadpanned. “Must we contend with idle chatter? ‘Tis such a lovely winter day out. I would prefer contemplating the swirls of my breath on the air.”

“Perhaps you should write poetry, Morrigan,” Leliana said with a wry smile. The witch glared at her.

“’Tis not for me to enchant with stories and songs, bard,” she replied shortly.

Renya sighed and picked up her pace, leaving the two women behind. Morrigan huffed.

“Now look what you have done.”

“Me?” Leliana said indignantly.

Renya walked on, trying to block out the arguing happening behind her. She twisted the ring on her finger, hating every memory that was trying to force its way into her mind. She spun the ring faster, thinking of Tamlen’s falon’saota and little fledgling.

It wasn’t fair.

***

And so the party continued on for the rest of that week, with Renya barely speaking to anyone and her friends talking in hushed whispers behind her back.

…as if Renya was unable to hear them.

“We must do something,” Wynne murmured to Alistair one afternoon. “Of course she must mourn, but she has become so preoccupied. Perhaps we should take a few days to rest?”

“I don’t think she’d like that idea, Wynne,” Alistair replied, glancing at Renya, who was walking in front of the group alone, save for Elgar. “She can be stubborn, you know. And I think she just wants to get to Redcliffe.”

“It’s her duty driving her,” Nyviel offered. “And she holds onto that with her two hands. We all know that. I think if she loses that right now… she wouldn’t be able to go on at all. I think we should leave her be,” she continued loyally.

“I find I agree with the elf mage,” Morrigan commented, her eyes flashing at the rest of the group. “Perhaps we will one day all trust that the Warden does, in fact, know what she is doing.”

“So you would just leave her as she is?” Leliana asked, staring at the back of Renya’s head. “If you are her friend, Morrigan, as you say you are, I would expect you to try and make her feel better.”

“If you are her friend,” Morrigan countered icily. “I would expect you to not try and force her to feel things that she does not want to feel.”

Leliana’s mouth dropped open before she turned red and looked away. Morrigan nodded with satisfaction.

Nyviel frowned at the witch. She had watched Renya prefer Morrigan’s company more and more over the past few days, and it made her uncomfortable. While she, too, was intrigued by the apostate and enjoyed talking to her about magic – and answering Morrigan’s rare, yet idiosyncratic, questions about friendship – she was still concerned by Renya’s sudden fondness for her. She sighed, wondering if her concerns were as unfounded as Leliana's concerns about _her_ prior to Haven. Renya was allowed to be friends with whom she pleased, after all.

But back to the matter at hand.

Leliana was staring straight ahead with her arms crossed, looking troubled, and Alistair had turned on Morrigan.

“Is this the part where we’re supposed to be surprised you’ve never had a friend your entire life?” he said angrily. Morrigan arched an eyebrow at him.

“’Twould be obvious, I think, that this is what our leader wishes,” she said coolly. “Perhaps you would like to try what you have suggested? Go on, Alistair. Walk next to her. Tell her your terrible jokes. Or perhaps she would like to listen to a happy song about heroes sacrificing everything for their noble causes.” She glared at Leliana, who pulsed her jaw once but didn’t say anything.

“Yes, these are preferable to my idea,” Morrigan finished sarcastically. She turned her head and stopped walking abruptly. The rest of the companions followed suit.

Renya was standing in front of them with her arms crossed. “Have you all reached an agreement on what is best for me?” she asked, her eyes flashing dangerously.

No one answered. Renya nodded curtly.

“Let us move on.”

***

The next evening was very quiet at camp. Renya barely looked at any of her companions, her features set in a stony expression and her hands either occupied by gripping her necklace or, more often, twisting the ring on her finger. Wynne was watching her with concern.

“Eat,” Leliana said softly, indicating the food Renya hadn’t touched. The elf blinked as if rousing from her thoughts.

“I am not hungry.”

Alistair glanced at his fellow Warden in shock, quickly replaced by worry. He was already finishing his second bowl, and Wardens always had a big appetite.

“You should eat anyway,” Leliana insisted gently, placing the spoon in the bowl and stirring the food it in. Instead of answering, Renya heaved herself off the log she was sitting on, walked away to the edge of the camp and sat facing the sunset. Leliana sighed. Her eyes met Nyviel’s; the younger elf made a little motion with her head in the direction Renya had gone, giving her a meaningful look. The bard grabbed both her and Renya’s bowls and followed the Warden. She sat down next to her without comment.

They sat without speaking for a long time.

“I am not going to tell you anything more about Tamlen or the events surrounding my becoming a Grey Warden,” Renya said stiffly, finally breaking the silence.

Leliana nodded. “I know.”

“And I am not going to talk about my _feelings_ or whatever it is you might want to know about.”

“I know.”

“And I am not going to tell you about our childhood, or what it really means to be someone’s lethallin, or why his appearance the other night was so much worse than his disappearance at the mirror.”

“I know, Renya. I just want you to eat.”

The elf went silent, looking anywhere but at Leliana.

“Ma serannas. Thank you,” she said simply.

Leliana smiled. “Of course. We can’t have you going hungry…”

“No, I mean… thank you for… for…” Renya swallowed. “Taking a shot that I could not. It was what he wanted.” She stared straight ahead. “Thank you for bringing him peace.”

“Oh, Renya,” Leliana murmured. “I-”

“Ma serannas,” Renya interrupted, taking her bowl from Leliana. Her hands were shaking a little. Leliana reached over and grasped the bowl, her hands covering Renya’s. The motion subsided a little.

“Let me help you…”

“I can do it,” Renya said, slipping her hand out from under Leliana’s and gripping the spoon. She forced herself to chew and swallow. Her appetite was still non-existant. She stared sadly into the blue eyes watching her with concern.

“Lathbora viran…”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” the elf replied with a small smile. “That I am eating only because you asked me to.” She nodded solemnly. “It is a fairly literal translation, do not worry.”

“Why do I not believe you?” Leliana asked playfully, glad to see Renya’s humor returning, even for just a moment.

“Because…” Renya shoveled in two spoonfuls in rapid succession and spoke with her mouth full, muffling whatever words she was saying. She smiled through the food, her eyes crinkling.

“That’s not fair!” Leliana said with mock outrage, pressing a hand to her chest theatrically. “You can’t just…” She took another bite and mumbled something back at the Warden. They started laughing, and Leliana leaned against Renya’s shoulder happily as the elf covered her mouth with the back of her hand and chuckled.

Nyviel, still sitting at the campfire, watched the two with a small smile on her face. Of course, if anyone could make Renya smile again it would be Leliana, and Nyviel was glad it was the bard, and not Morrigan, who had elicited such a reaction. The younger elf’s grin faded as she saw Wynne staring at the two, shaking her head in disapproval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh.
> 
> Just as a little side note, I think this is a good time to mention that the characters of this story all tell things from their own perspective. While one or another might have different insights, they are each speaking from their own experiences and interpretations.
> 
> So, Morrigan and Nyviel have different interpretations for Renya's sudden fondness for the apostate, but neither one is more "correct" than the other. Just something to keep in mind.
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!
> 
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	66. Of Witches and Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new quest becomes available as the companions trek back to Redcliffe.

“Warden.”

Renya opened her eyes. She had been meditating, and had wondered if the hurried footsteps coming up from behind her would stop before they stepped on her. Black leather-clad legs stood close to her, and Renya looked up into the very worried face of Morrigan. Renya rose with concern. Worry was not an emotion that Morrigan wore. It was odd to see the brows knit and the gold eyes wide and staring.

“Morrigan?”

“I hate to bother you, when you have been so…” The witch trailed off. Renya shook her head.

“It is fine. What is wrong, Morrigan?”

“I… have been studying Mother’s grimoire,” the apostate replied, trying to speak with her usual curt tone. “I am sorry to bother you so late, but… Do you wish to hear what I have found?”

“What have you found, lethallan?”

Morrigan took a steadying breath. “I admit… ‘tis not what I expected. I had hoped for a collection of her spells, a map of the powers she commands, but this is not it…”

“Then what is it? You seemed very disturbed by what you have read,” Renya said gently as the witch clenched and unclenched her hands.

“Disturbed?” she asked, glancing at Renya’s eyes and looking away again. “Yes, perhaps that is the right word. One thing in particular… it describes in great detail the means by which Flemeth has survived for centuries. It appears that Flemeth is… an ancient abomination…”

The elf exhaled sharply. _Asha’bellanar, an abomination?_ But Morrigan continued.

“She has raised many daughters over her long lifetime, but I have never seen a one and always wondered why not. And now I know,” she said quietly. “They are… all Flemeth. When her body becomes old and wizened, she raises a daughter and, when the time is right, she takes her daughter’s body for her own. While whatever spark of the demon that made her sustains her mind, her body still deteriorates. So she must seek a new body, a fresh body, and start the cycle anew.”

“Elgar’nan’s teeth, Morrigan…” Renya murmured. “But can this be anyone? Or must it be a daughter?”

“I am uncertain,” Morrigan said with a wave of her hand. “According to her writings, certain hosts are better than others. The more powerful the host, the more prepared it is, the quicker the… transition will be. I am sorry,” she said, her voice higher and lighter than Renya had ever heard it. “This simply takes me by surprise. I would have thought I would have had some inkling… some notion…”

“She is your mother, Morrigan. No one can expect that.”

“She is a sorceress and an abomination, and I should have expected something. The details of the training…” The witch shook her head. For the first time, Renya realized how young Morrigan was. “The preparations… I recognize all of it. I… am to be her next host. This is my purpose.”

“Then why send you with us on such a dangerous quest? Something isn’t right.”

But Morrigan shook her head, sadly this time, and not meeting Renya’s eyes again. “I had little idea why Flemeth would send me with you. ‘Tis not a secret that I was displeased at the time,” she commented, trying – and failing – for her usual tone. She sighed. “Perhaps she thinks this journey will make me more powerful…” she said softly. She snapped her gaze up, gold eyes boring into green. “There is only one possible response to this. Flemeth must be slain, and I need your help to do it. And you must do it without me.”

“Morrigan?”

The witch was pacing back and forth in front of the Warden. “If I am present,” she continued emphatically. “I cannot be certain that she will not possess me immediately. And even after she is slain, she will not truly be dead, but it may take her years to find another host. Please, Renya.” She stopped and stared into Renya’s eyes again, surprised at hearing the elf’s name slip off her tongue. “I need her true grimoire. To protect myself in the future.”

Renya looked at the terrified witch. Kill Asha’bellanar? Was that even possible? She was an eccentric old woman, a little odd at times, but she was a friend to the Sabrae clan, enough that Renya’s father had entrusted his amulet to her… She rubbed her vallaslin. The unexpected use of her name didn’t go unnoticed, either.

“I will not allow harm to come to you, Morrigan. If we must kill Flemeth, then I will see it done.”

Morrigan smiled in shocked relief. “I am grateful to you. The sooner this can be done, the sooner it will set my mind at ease.”

“After we are finished in Redcliffe, we will travel back to the Korcari Wilds. You are far too valuable to lose, lethallan.”

The witch opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it, looking surprised.

“Is this… a promise?”

Renya nodded, holding Morrigan’s gaze. “Yes, Morrigan. This is a promise.”

“Indeed,” Morrigan responded, businesslike again. “I bid you goodnight, then, Warden.”

“Goodnight, lethallan,” Renya said as Morrigan turned smartly and walked back to her tent.

“What was that all about?”

The elf sighed as she heard Alistair walk up to her. “I will keep your watch with you, lethallin. Let me explain.”

***

“You… do not truly think I look as my mother does, do you?” Morrigan asked a few days later. Renya shook her head with resignation. Alistair looked at the witch with a knowing smile.

“Have you really been thinking about that this whole time?”

“I am simply curious,” Morrigan sniffed.

“And not insecure in the slightest, I’m sure.”

“I think I look nothing like her,” the apostate opined with force.

“I don’t know,” Alistair considered, running a hand through his short brown hair. “Give it a few hundred years and it’ll be a spot-on match.”

“I said that I look nothing like her!”

“Alright, alright…” Alistair waved his hands in front of him. “Totally different. I see that now.”

***

“The girl in Red Crossing I’m longing to see,” Zevran sang, dancing around Renya and Nyviel, grasping their shoulders and singing with his lilting accented voice. “O, I know she is there, daisies in her hair…”

Renya laughed and joined in with Zevran’s circling dance. He continued singing. “Waiting by the Chantry to marry me!”

“What is this nonsense?” Morrigan snapped.

“Be kind, dear,” Wynne said with a laugh. “I enjoy listening to the singing. You have a nice voice, Zevran,” she added kindly to the Antivan. He bowed theatrically to her.

“Thank you, my dear! Perhaps another, more rousing song?”

“How do you know all these?” Nyviel asked.

Zevran laughed and clapped her shoulder. “My dear Nyviel. I grew up in a brothel. I know every tavern song there is!” And he started singing again, this one much livelier and raunchier than the last one.

“…so roll me in your arms, my love, and blow the candles out…”

His voice drifted over to where Leliana and Alistair were walking next to each other. Redcliffe castle was finally in view again, and Leliana had been talking to the other Warden about his heritage, both failing to ignore the merriment happening next to them.

“So… this thing you and she have going,” Alistair said now, catching Leliana staring – again – at Renya and glad for an opportunity to change the subject. “Doesn’t that violate your vows?”

“What?” Leliana said sharply, quickly tearing her eyes away from the dancing elves. “What kind of question is that to just blurt out? What do we ‘have going’?”

Alistair raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes, I’m that blind,” he commented flatly. “I so totally did not see you ogling each other before.”

“She was not ogling me,” the bard said defiantly. Her pulse picked up. “Was she? Was she really ogling me?” She hoped that her voice didn’t sound as eager to Alistair as it did to her.

“Now that you mention it,” Alistair replied seriously. “I’m not sure. Maybe it was just you I saw…” He nodded as Leliana shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe she wasn’t ogling you. I don’t know… I could always ask her…”

“You can’t do that!” Leliana cried, panicked. She took a breath. “Could you? You couldn’t do that…”

“I could,” the other Warden said with a smug grin. “But I won’t. Next thing you’ll have me pulling her hair and passing her love letters.”

“I… just mind your own business,” she snapped back. “How inappropriate!”

Alistair chuckled, shaking his head.

“…so hold me in your arms, my love…” Renya skipped over, still singing along with Zevran, and knocked her shoulder against Alistair’s arm. “…and blow the candles out!” She winked at Leliana and laughed, resting her hands on the hilts of her swords and ignoring Leliana’s blush.

“It’s good to see you smiling again, Renya.”

The elf nodded at him, her expression becoming a little more serious. “It feels good to laugh, lethallin. I have not done it in a while.”

“Come, Alistair!” Zevran joined the two Wardens and draped his arm amiably around both of their shoulders. “I know a wonderful song that you will just adore about a lonely woman in an inn…”

“Oh, Maker…” Alistair mumbled, turning pink. Leliana capitalized on the opportunity and faded out of the conversation, falling into step next to Nyviel.

Nyviel nudged her, and Leliana startled, catching herself watching Renya again as she let Zevran rock her back and forth in time to the music as they walked.

“You really should just talk to her,” she said softly. Leliana shook her head stubbornly.

“Ma nuvenin…” the elf replied with a sigh.

***

That night at camp was much livelier than it had been in a few days. Zevran offered to cook again, and soon the air was filled with wonderful smells. The two Wardens stood close to the cooking, breathing deeply as steam rose from the cooking meat.

A strangled cry caught their attention.

“Warden!” It was Morrigan. The apostate stomped over to where the rest of the companions sat talking. Renya and Alistair looked up.

“Your… mangy, smelly, _awful_ …”

Elgar appeared next to Renya, stumpy tail tucked as far between his legs as it could go, looking guilty.

“What did you do?” she asked the dog with a frown. The dog bowed his head. She looked up at Morrigan. “What did he do?”

“That… _animal_ … that terrible, disrespectful _thing_ …”

“The swamp witch acts like she does not like the dog, but describes it as if it were much more than merely an animal,” Shale noted.

“It is vile!”

“What happened, Morrigan?”

“That… _dog_ broke into my camp and dug around in my pack, and…” She glared at Elgar, who slunk further away, tucking himself behind Renya’s legs.

Morrigan huffed. “A putrid, half-eaten hare is not something a woman wants to find in her unmentionables!”

A long silence followed this. Then Alistair grinned.

“What’s that? He ruined them?” He tried, and failed, to keep the amusement out of his voice. “You’ll have to go without?!”

“Perhaps…but… ‘tis not the point!” Morrigan said, her eyes flashing as a blush crept up her neck.

“That was very bad, Elgar,” Renya said to the dog, who was trying to make himself as small as possible. “You should make it up to her.”

“Yes, by leaving me alone!”

Elgar barked unhappily.

“Well, next time, if you wish to leave me a present, do not leave it in my personal belongings,” she replied, crossing her arms.

The dog yipped at her a few times.

“Do not mention that again. I will not get any more if you keep up this foul behavior.”

Renya turned her back to them, smiling.

Finally, Zevran announced that the food was ready. Renya noticed with interest that Elgar spent the evening meal at Morrigan’s feet, and the apostate slipped him some of her food, glancing around to make sure no one was watching before patting him on the head. Elgar snuffled happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just passing the time as we head back to Redcliffe. I wanted to make Morrigan seem a little vulnerable here, because I really do picture her as young, maybe early 20s. I don't know if that came across. The sarcasm is hard to get through. Also, I love her with Elgar :) Also, I love the idea of the elves just having a good time together "because elves," even if it's cliche (haha).
> 
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	67. Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation doesn't go as planned.

“So, you were a bard when you lived in Orlais?” Nyviel asked a few days later.

“Everyone is so interested in this past life of mine,” Leliana replied gently. “Yes, I was. Why do you ask?”

“It just doesn’t seem like you.”

Leliana raised her eyebrows. “It doesn’t? That’s new.”

The younger elf shrugged. “I always thought that bards were vicious, cruel people.”

“Sometimes violence was a part of the job, but that does not make one vicious or cruel, no?” Leliana asked, forcing her thoughts away from how she hadn’t helped Nyviel against the darkspawn. It was lucky Renya was such a good shot, regardless of what she said. “Much of my work was through manipulation and deceit. I had to learn what made the other person tick and work them from the inside out.”

“That sounds… difficult.”

But Leliana laughed. “Not at all! There are many people who will open up when the other person seems caring or concerned. They are looking for a friendship, or more.” She smiled wistfully. “This can be exploited. Seduction is quite easy once you know what the other person is looking for.”

“And a pretty face doesn’t hurt, I’m sure.”

“No, it doesn’t.” The bard shrugged. “It is a game, really. And I was very good at it.”

“You saw it as a game? Manipulating people was a game?”

“Of course! It was a means to an end, and everyone does it. And it is very easy if you know the tricks. If I needed someone to fall in love with me to achieve my goal, I could do it with little trouble.” Leliana smiled subconsciously.

“Could you?”

Leliana’s heart jumped into her throat as she heard Renya’s voice next to her. She turned and shuddered at the disappointed look on Renya’s face.

The Warden shook her head. “What is your goal for following the Wardens, then?” She rubbed the scar on the side of her face without thinking. Leliana’s eyes widened.

“Renya, I… I didn’t mean it like that. It was my job, a long time ago, just business transactions…”

“That is all it ever is with humans, isn’t it?” Renya asked without emotion. “Business. You have something they want… and suddenly you are just good business.”

“Renya, you can’t believe that.”

“Can’t I?” Renya looked introspective for a moment before sighing and walking away.

“Renya! I…” She went to follow the Warden, but Nyviel grabbed her arm.

“I just meant that… Maker,” Leliana finished in a whisper, bringing her hand to her forehead. “I never… does she think…?” She shook her head. “How could she think that?”

Nyviel watched Renya walk next to Alistair for a while. He asked her something, but she waved a hand at him and shook her head.

“Well… Should we talk about what happened at Haven?” the young mage asked quietly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nyviel sighed. “You almost stabbed her. I’m sure that’s not something she’s just forgotten…” She took a steadying breath as she collected her thoughts.

“Why are you saying this to me?”

“Marjolaine is in Denerim,” Nyviel continued in the same light voice. “Don’t you think Renya was planning on traveling there to sort all this out for you?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with…”

“And when she fled from your tent that one evening,” the elf continued, crossing her arms contemplatively as she stared at Leliana. “I don’t know what you said to her, but she was heartbroken. You say you can manipulate easily, and for fun. Maybe you still do it, out of habit. And how lucky that the woman you love is a powerful Grey Warden, and a loyal Dalish elf.”

“I don’t-!” Leliana began indignantly, then stopped short, horrified.

“Love her?” Nyviel supplied, frowning.

“That’s not… I… Maker…” Leliana twisted her fingers uncomfortably. “She’s so… I don’t know…” The bard sighed. Nyviel stayed silent, still watching Renya. Morrigan had reappeared next to her and was whispering in the Dalish elf’s ear, glancing behind at them with her gold eyes.

Leliana shook her head, lost in her thoughts as Nyviel continued to walk silently beside her.

“I just… She…” Leliana shook her head. “She isn’t someone I could ever seduce, even if I tried. She is too… smart for that.”

_And Maker knows I’ve tried._

“Hm,” Nyviel grunted. “You and I have become friends, Leliana, and I do like you,” she said seriously. “But I don’t want to see Renya hurt. She has had to bear too much already, and her journey is far from over.”

“I know.” Leliana watched Renya, now pointing at a spot down the small hill they were on. The sun was beginning to set; they must be looking for a place to camp. “I don’t want her hurt either.”

***

_Renya was standing in front of her, arms outstretched with a knife at her throat. The point was pressing into the soft hollow of her neck, and Leliana’s hand was poised on the handle, one gentle push away from ending the elf’s life._

_She was telling her to kill her, to punish her for her actions. Leliana stood, frozen in place for a few seconds that reached on forever, before removing the blade and giving it back to her. Her heart was pounding. The elf was looking at her intently, speaking in Dalish first, so Leliana knew how serious she was being._

_Forgiving her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to leave this here...
> 
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	68. Trustworthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cranky Renya is cranky. Repentant Leliana is insightful.

_“…just business transactions…”_

_Of course,_ Renya thought bitterly as Alistair tried to chat with her. _Elves are only ever called upon to solve human problems, to satisfy a shemlen need. The humans want the Maker to return to them? Well, cleanse the world of heathens – who cares if elves die? But wait, now you need some of their crafts? Yes, of course; trade with them. Oh no, do not give them the fair price for their goods, and the law is not on your side, knife-ear. Drunk on your bad ale? There must be some young elves around to play with and sate your desires. Beaten in a fight? Go kill some fledglings so you can tell your friends you bested some “fearsome” Dalish elves._

_Need some Grey Wardens?_ Renya clenched her jaw, almost feeling bad that she had been about to think ill of Duncan. Even Leliana’s story about Aveline spoke of the Dalish coming to the aid of humans.

_“…You have something they want… and suddenly you are just good business.”_

_“Renya, you can’t believe that.”_

_“Can’t I?”_

Criticized for saying your Maker speaks to you? Insist on leaving your home with an elf. Don’t tell her about your past until she is almost murdered. Flirt with her. Make her want to protect you. Tell her about the woman she loved who hurt her.

The memory of Leliana pressed against her before their trek to Haven pushed its way to the front of her memory. She frowned.

_“…if I needed someone to fall in love with me to achieve my goal, I could do it with little trouble.”_

Her stomach clenched when she thought of the implications of her reply.

_“What is your goal for following the Wardens, then?”_

No. No, this was not happening. It was _not_ happening.

“And her secrets now bother you,” Morrigan observed, pulling Renya from her thoughts. The witch glanced behind her at Nyviel and Leliana. Renya shrugged. The witch tisked at her.

“How does one trust someone who has dealt in secrets and shadows? Can you ever truly leave your past behind?” the witch pressed.

“I do not know, Morrigan,” Renya replied with a sigh.

“And yet you let her stay and play with you so.”

The elf pulsed her jaw.

“We all have pasts that we carry with us.” She would decide what to do about Leliana later. Briefly her thoughts drifted to Merrill. It would be easier if Leliana wasn’t around anymore, and much less confusing. _But…_

She sighed. She would decide what to do about Leliana later…

“She is putting you in danger, asking you to confront this Marjolaine.” Morrigan crossed her arms as they walked. “’Tis something that I will not allow.”

“While I appreciate that,” Renya said carefully. “I have not forgotten that you asked me me to kill your mother, the powerful Asha’bellanar,” she finished flatly. She nodded with satisfaction as Morrigan was silenced. “We all have pasts that follow us.”

***

It was a quiet evening at camp. Renya had gone hunting and was contentedly eating the cooked meat that Zevran had given her. Morrigan and Wynne were arguing, again, and Alistair was doing his best to not take sides, although it was clear that he agreed with the older mage. Renya shook her head; the way he spoke to her… it was like he was speaking to his grandmother.

“Next he’ll be asking her to darn his socks,” Nyviel commented from next to Renya. Leliana came over and perched on Renya’s other side; there was barely enough room for her, but she balanced herself gracefully. The elf looked at her curiously but didn’t say anything.

“So what happens once we’ve saved everyone in Redcliffe?” Nyviel asked now, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen at Leliana’s arrival. Renya nodded.

“We continue fulfilling the Warden treaties,” Renya replied. “We go to Orzammar, and then find the Dalish.”

“We will be able to meet your clan?” Leliana asked with interest. “I’m sorry…” she added hastily as Renya glared at her. Renya’s expression softened and she sighed.

“Nae. No. They have moved on,” she said softly. “They have most likely gone to the Free Marches. We could not reach them in time.” She managed a smile. “It is too bad. Merrill is a fierce mage, and Fenarel is becoming a mighty warrior…” She glanced at Leliana. “But we will be looking for a different clan, one of the more southern ones. It will also give me a chance to see who can truly be trusted. Although we are not visiting the Sabrae, I cannot introduce people I do not trust to the Dalish. We have enough troubles as it is,” she finished lightly.

“Renya…” Leliana began, hurt.

“How will you know how to find them?” Nyviel interrupted.

Renya shrugged, unconcerned. “They live in the Brecilian forest. I will be able to track them,” she said confidently. She glanced down as Leliana tried to take her empty bowl. She tugged it away and refilled it herself, ignoring the bard’s disappointment. “My only worry is getting them to trust me with so many humans trailing behind me.”

“What do you mean?” Leliana asked. Her voice was small. “We are… we are your friends… are we not?”

Renya blinked, staring into the fire. “You will find that I am one of the more accepting Dalish. Hard to believe, I know.”

“Why?” Nyviel asked.

“Any shem- human is a threat, especially ones who are armed and coming toward you. You tell them to stop, state their business, and they laugh at you?” Renya made a face and shook her head. “But then the humans call us bloodthirsty. We have learned to give them fewer chances.” She clenched her jaw. “Barely one, most of the time.”

“That is not right,” Leliana said. Renya glared at her, looking betrayed and angry. The bard continued as if she hadn’t noticed. “The elves have no reason to trust the intentions of an unknown, armed human. Humans must know the harm they – we – have caused your people and should act accordingly if they wish for peaceful passage through your forest.”

“You… you would take responsibility for the actions of other humans?” Renya asked with confusion.

“I am a human,” Leliana said gently. “And a sister of the Chantry. My people have caused your people much suffering.” She tentatively laid a hand on Renya shoulder, and sighed as Renya twitched away. “We have to show we are trustworthy before you can trust us.”

Renya frowned, staring into the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mythal'enaste, did they just... communicate?!
> 
>  
> 
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	69. A Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynne talks to Renya about Leliana, and the group survives another darkspawn attack.

“So… what do you think of our companions?” Alistair asked them after the evening meal. He was sitting sharpening his sword, and Renya was beside him, engaged with the same task.

“What do I think of them?” She glanced over the camp. Sten was marching around the perimeter, on first watch, and Nyviel and Zevran were speaking quietly to each other. Morrigan, having decided to camp a little closer to the rest of the group, was inside her tent. Wynne and Leliana were not visible, presumably sleeping in their own tents. “They seem… content at the moment.”

“No, no…” Alistair said playfully. “What about Morrigan, hm? She lives up to her name of witch, doesn’t she?”

“I… guess so? She’s always been nice to me, lethallin,” Renya said, cocking an eyebrow at him. “We are friends.”

“Oh. Great.” The other Warden sounded disappointed, but then he brightened. “And Sten? What about him? Qunari, right? Terrifying.”

Renya nodded with a small chuckle. Sten certainly was intimidating. “He is… big, I will give you that,” she said. “I do not know what to make of him sometimes, but I am glad he is on our side, at least,” she added, watching him continue his patrol.

“And Nyviel?”

Renya frowned. She was never really interested in gossip, but Alistair looked so happy that she decided to keep playing along.

“She is very friendly. I am glad she asked to come with us.”

“Me, too,” he replied, staring at her across the camp.

A teasing smile tugged on the corner of Renya’s mouth. “Do you think she has _nice ears,_ lethallin?”

Instantly Alistair turned bright red. “What? No! Why would I think her ears are nice?”

“No reason,” Renya responded with a smile, settling her attention back onto her sword. A little silence fell between them.

“…What about Leliana?” Alistair asked carefully some time later. Renya rolled her eyes.

“This is really what you wanted to talk about, wasn’t it?”

“She says the Maker spoke to her! Crazy, isn’t it? Do you believe that her vision was real?”

Renya sighed. “I believe that she believes her vision was real,” she answered carefully.

“Hm. Well that’s one way to put it,” Alistair said with a thoughtful frown. “I feel bad for her, really.”

That was unexpected. “Why?” the elf asked, putting her dar’misu back on her belt and beginning to sharpen her longsword.

“She always looks so… sad. Except when she’s looking at you, of course,” he replied gently.

“Looking at me?” Renya sighed again. “We all carry burdens with us, lethallin.”

“Yes, I know, but… I wonder if she was happier at Lothering.”

“I am not sure what you want me to say, Alistair.”

“I don’t, either,” he said with a sharp exhale. “It’s like she never seems… comfortable, you know? Like there’s a constant battle going on inside her.”

“Hm.”

“Did you two have a fight?”

“No,” Renya said flatly. “And I am done speaking about this.”

“I’ll just ask her then,” he said with a smug smile; it had worked on the bard. His face fell when he heard Renya’s answer, however.

“Go ahead.”

“You’re no fun at all.”

Renya smiled and elbowed the other Warden.

***

“Elgar’nan, lasa ghilan,” Renya murmured to herself the next morning. She was facing the trees, her eyes closed, and had been trying to meditate with little success. “Ma ghilana lathbora viran…” She sighed. “Melana en athim las enaste, Hahren…Ma dirthara lothlenan’as bal emma malo dir. Elgar’nan, give guidance. Guide me along the path, yearning for my place of lost love. Let my humility grant your favor, Hahren. I seek truth in the forgotten lands deep within my heart.”

Leliana crept away from her tent, returning Nyviel’s smile as she passed her. She walked lightly over to where the Warden was meditating and sat next to her, listening as the elf prayed in Dalish. She seemed to be repeating the same prayer over and over.

“Elgar’nan, lasa ghilan….”

The prayer went on and on, and Leliana sat by, listening. She couldn’t believe that Renya hadn’t noticed her presence. Usually the elf heard her coming as soon as Leliana even thought about walking closer.

“Ma ghilana… Glandival atisha. Glandival inan shemlen ma…”

Leliana frowned. She didn’t think racial slurs had a place in prayer.

“Ghilani ma vhenan’ara.” Renya took a deep breath. “It just means ‘quick children.’ It did not originate as an insult,” she said softly, keeping her eyes closed.

The bard raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry?”

Renya opened her eyes and looked at Leliana. “Shemlen. It means ‘quick children.’ The Elvhen referred to humans as ‘shemlen’ because humans were mortal; their lives were ‘quick’ compared to the immortal elves. Once we were oppressed, it became an insult, but it is still sometimes used simply to refer to a human. It is not like the term knife-ear, which is always an insult,” she finished with a jaw-clench.

“Why were you praying about humans?” Leliana asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

Renya looked away, her face carefully blank. “Glandival means a wish or desire.” Without another word, she rose and walked over to wake Alistair and break the fast, leaving Leliana sitting alone.

“Wishes? About Humans?” Leliana shook her head. She frowned. Renya had used another phrase, one she had explained back at the Circle Tower. “…ma vhenan’ara…” If only she could remember what that meant.

***

“Renya? May I speak with you?” Wynne asked a few days later, walking up beside Leliana and the Warden. Renya turned.

“Of course, Wynne.” She fell into step beside the mage, Leliana watching her go out of the side of her eye. The mage slowed her pace until they were walking quite far behind the others, almost next to Bodahn’s cart.

“I have noticed that you and Leliana have become very close,” she began softly. She sighed. This was for the good of Ferelden, she reminded herself.

“We have become friends, yes.” Renya nodded her head once in affirmation.

Wynne hardened her heart. She had noticed the two drift apart a little, and so had decided to press the issue now and gently reinforce the divide.

“You have spent quite a lot of time together.” Wynne frowned slightly. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. The familiarity with which you speak. How she always finds a way to place herself next to you…” Wynne paused. “She is quite taken with you, it seems.”

“Yes.” Renya didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t blind.

“And what of you? Do you return her affections?”

“I have said she is my friend,” Renya replied evenly. “Why do you ask?”

Wynne considered her. Renya was too stubborn for a full frontal assault. She would have to be subtle, appeal to Renya’s emotions instead, especially since she wasn’t making much headway with Leliana. Taking a deep breath, she replied, “Leliana is a remarkable girl. She is sincere and guileless, and is opening her heart to you. I’m worried that she will be hurt by this.”

Renya clenched her jaw. “What about me?” she joked lightly. “You are not worried about me getting hurt?”

The mage pressed her lips together in a thin line. “This is not a joke, Renya. You are a Grey Warden.” She looked at the elf meaningfully. “You have responsibilities that supersede your personal desires. And although it is admirable that you continue to allow Leliana to follow us, she obviously is having an upsetting effect on you.”

“What would you like me to do, Wynne? Tell Leliana to go away?”

“I am saying that… a little ‘no’ now might hurt her less than… a big goodbye later,” Wynne said as gently as she could. Renya fixed her with a very skeptical look.

“Walking away is different than being taken away,” the Warden replied flatly. She remembered leaving her clan; thinking back now, she didn’t know if she had been more angry at Duncan for trying to take her, or upset at the hahren for expecting her to choose to leave.

“And, if the time comes,” Wynne said sadly. “And you had to choose between saving Leliana and defeating the archdemon, what would you decide?”

“I am a Grey Warden,” Renya said stiffly. “I have a duty. I made a promise.”

“And have you not made a promise to Leliana?”

“I have not.”

“But will you?”

Renya stayed silent, her thoughts flying.

“Love is ultimately selfish, Renya,” Wynne continued. “Would you abandon her for your cause? Would you cause her pain because of your Grey Warden duties? If it came to it, would you sacrifice your love for her for the greater good?” She looked up to where Leliana and Nyviel were chatting happily. The bard was laughing at something the elf had said, and the musical sound made Renya smile subconsciously. Unfortunately Wynne noticed and gave her a look. Renya’s smile faded.

“Defeating the archdemon saves everyone.” She crossed her arms.

“What is the Grey Warden motto, Renya?” Wynne pressed gently. Renya sighed. It was a much different code than she lived by with the Dalish.

“In peace, vigilance. In war, victory. In death, sacrifice,” she said obediently.

“And where will Leliana fit in with vigilance, war, and sacrifice?” Wynne continued. Renya pulsed her jaw a few times.

“I will consider your words, Wynne. I will promise nothing else.”

The mage sighed, watching as Renya’s face became serious and unreadable again. The green eyes looked sad.

“That’s all I can ask.”

***

“Darkspawn,” Renya warned one afternoon after they had been walking for a time. They were in the middle of a large clearing, and she and Alistair were looking around.

“Where are they coming from?” Zevran asked. Alistair shook his head.

“All around,” he murmured, drawing his sword and readying his shield.

Zevran nodded grimly and sidled over to the three mages, who were standing with their staffs poised.

“Should we go into the forest?” Nyviel asked.

“Visibility will be poorer there,” Renya growled, her eyes narrowed as she stared at the horde coming toward them. “We stand out ground.”

Leliana aimed an arrow at the hurlock at the front, her heart hammering. She didn’t notice Renya inch closer to her, swords drawn.

“Steady… steady…” Alistair intoned as the group pressed together.

A muffled cry came from behind them, and they turned in time to see Nyviel frozen in a block of ice. Renya’s eyes widened.

“Ar tu na’din!” she cried before charging at the darkspawn. Arrows whistled past her, and she was glad when the emissary went down, two arrows neatly lodged in its neck.  
Elgar howled and charged, knocking down a small group of genlocks and tearing at them ferociously as Sten seamlessly cut through another group of attacking monsters.

Soon the darkspawn lay dead. Alistair wiped his brow.

“We won?” he said with a smile. “Yay!” He chuckled at himself. “…yay.”

“How refreshing,” Zevran commented with a sarcastic smile.

“Yes,” Nyviel agreed with an eye-roll. “I feel refreshed.” Her legs were still frozen in ice and she was working a spell to thaw them faster.

Shale stomped over to Renya. “I for one enjoyed smashing their heads onto rocks. Did it find similar enjoyment?”

“Um… I am glad the darkspawn are dead,” Renya said evenly.

“It did not enjoy it?”

“It does not enjoy killing things. It enjoys when there aren’t darkspawn anymore, though,” Renya said, looking around at all the dead bodies. She glanced up at the golem. “Will you help us pile the bodies? We will have to burn them.”

“Burn? This is curious. Does it wish to hold a funeral for the foul creatures?”

“Creators, no. But no animal should eat the corpses.”

“I will do this.”

Zevran nudged Nyviel, finally free. “I’m glad I’m not a Warden, now,” he said with some humor as he watched Renya and Alistair drag darkspawn bodies over to a pile.

Renya grabbed a dead genlock under its armpits, heaved, and started dragging it over to the pile. She glanced up in time to see Leliana hurry over and stoop to help her.

“No!” Renya said sharply, yanking on the darkspawn so it twisted away from Leliana. The bard looked at her, startled. “No,” she said a little more calmly. “Do not touch their blood if you can help it.”

“But –“

“I do not need your help, Leliana. Thank you.”

“There isn’t any blood on its legs,” Leliana said indignantly. “Let me…”

Renya dropped the body with a crunch and glared at Leliana with her arms crossed.

“No,” she said forcefully. “It is too dangerous, and you are too valuable. I do not want to lose…” She faltered as she heard what she was saying. “…such a good archer.”

Leliana, who had felt painfully hopeful for a moment, nodded resignedly. “Of-of course, Renya.”

When the Wardens were done, the mages set the pile on fire, effectively burning the bodies in a matter of minutes. They all sat watching the pile smolder for part of the afternoon before moving on. Leliana found herself walking next to Shale and Zevran.

“I do not like this,” Shale said darkly as Morrigan swooped by in her raven form. “But the elf Warden has told me I am not allowed to harm the swamp witch when she is a raven, even though she is most foul.”

“Most fowl, is she?” Zevran asked with an eyebrow wiggle. “I didn’t know golems possessed such a sense of humor, my dear Shale.”

Leliana let their bantering voices wash over her as she stared at the back of Renya’s armor. The elf and human Wardens were arguing at the front of the procession about the best route to take, and Leliana hadn’t quite worked up enough nerve to intervene and take Alistair’s maps away from him again.

Nyviel wandered over to her. “I can’t listen to them anymore,” she murmured. “Alistair doesn’t know where we are, and Renya has never been in this part of Ferelden before, but they both know exactly which way we are supposed to be traveling.” She frowned when she saw Leliana’s look.

“What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” Leliana tried to return her face to something more neutral. “Nothing is wrong. I am just tired.”

Nyviel arched an eyebrow, and it was so reminiscent of Renya’s expression that Leliana’s breath caught for a moment. “Just talk to her, Leliana. Or sing her a song. Or do something. Don’t just stare and hope she can read your mind.”

“Because the map says so!” Alistair shouted in frustration, catching everyone’s attention. “This is how we’re supposed to go!”

“No, it is not,” Renya returned just as angrily. “That is not where we are.”

“Is too.”

“Ask Leliana. She will tell you I am right.”

“Ask her yourself.”

Renya fell silent, and Leliana’s stomach clenched a little. Nyviel sighed. Finally Renya turned toward the end of the procession.

“Leliana,” she said much more calmly. “We are lost. Can you figure out where we are?”

Leliana nodded and hurried to the front of the group, noticing Renya’s eyes lingering on her as she took the maps from Alistair.

“I’m sorry, Alistair, but Renya’s right,” she said quietly a few minutes later. “We’re only here.” She pointed on the map. “So we need to go a little south yet.”

Alistair made a face. “She only took your side because she likes you better.”

Renya scoffed. “Still counts.”

Leliana was sure she didn’t imagine the small smile Renya sent her way before turning and continuing on, still arguing with Alistair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Glandival atisha. Glandival inan shemlen ma - Basically, Renya is wishing for inner peace, and then wishing to "have" the eyes of a human, which I'm using here to mean "catch their eye" or something similar. I'm saying she's enamored with the eyes of a human, and she wants to find peace regarding that idea.
> 
> Also, what about Wynne just accusing Renya of already being in love with Leliana? And I love the gossip with Alistair...
> 
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	70. A Night at Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrigan is still suspicious of Leliana, Nyviel is suspicious of Morrigan, and Leliana loses her ability to smooth-talk her way through a difficult situation.

Morrigan watched Leliana stare at the Warden as the elf meditated. It didn’t make sense. The Warden was a capable leader, deadly when she had to be but infuriatingly reasonable, which Morrigan supposed was the only reason all the companions were still traveling together. Leliana, on the other hand, was nothing more than a scared little girl who could neither solve her own problems nor seemed capable of honesty. How many times had the Chantry girl fumbled through interacting with Renya, trying to convince her she was trustworthy, then turned around and deceived another human? She had nothing of value to offer the Warden. And still Renya defended the bard.

“Jealous, Morrigan?” Nyviel had come over. She brandished some herbs at Morrigan.

“I do not wish to speak with you, Nyviel,” Morrigan replied, although she did take the offered plants. Nyviel sat next to her and took out her mortar and pestle.

“Alright,” she replied simply, beginning to grind herbs for poultices. They sat silently for a time, Nyviel pretending to ignore how vigorously Morrigan was crushing the roots and stems in her bowl as she stared at Leliana.

“You do not trust her, either,” Morrigan said after a while. Nyviel blinked at her.

“Who?”

“Leliana.”

Nyviel sighed. “I don’t think she will betray us, if that’s what you mean.”

“No. But she is distracting the Warden with her games. Do you not agree?”

“I don’t know, Morrigan. Renya’s Warden abilities never seem to waver no matter what happens to her,” Nyviel replied with a little shrug.

Morrigan wasn’t satisfied. “’Tis madness, to pursue love. It weakens the mind and makes one do foolish things.” She tilted her head as if realizing something.

Unfortunately Nyviel noticed the look. “What is it?”

“What is what? The madness? This game the bard has engaged our Warden in, and in which the Warden has allowed herself to be ensnared.”

Nyviel decided to not pursue her uneasy feeling. For now. “What would you like her to do?”

“Leave.” Morrigan flipped her hair out of her face.

Nyviel shook her head. “I meant Renya.”

Morrigan paused, unsure. “I would like her to use the rules of Leliana’s game to win. If you are going to partake in foolish relationships, you should benefit from them. Do you not agree?”

“What?” Nyviel couldn’t believe her ears. “Is that what you are doing, Morrigan?” She hoped this was just another of the witch’s misunderstandings about friendship.

“I am aiding the Warden,” Morrigan said in a bored voice. “Notice we are not lovers. I cannot ask of her the same things as if I were such, and I will never hold the sway of one who may or may not one day share Renya’s bedroll.”

“We are not talking about this anymore,” Nyviel said, rising. She stared at Morrigan seriously. “You don’t use the people you love, Morrigan. You don’t use your friends. You do things for them because you care about them, and don’t ask for anything in return. Creators…” And she walked away in a huff, leaving Morrigan to her thoughts.

***

Leliana paced back and forth behind Renya. It was the elf’s watch, and she had been standing in one place for ever so long. She wished she would move; there was a better chance of Leliana being able to hide in the shadows behind a moving target, rather than one that was standing as still as a statue. She took a deep breath and wished that, if she was just going to stand there, the elf would turn and see her. For the better part of the week, Leliana had been agonizing over Nyviel’s suggestion to just “talk to Renya, already.” She promised herself it would be tonight, but as Renya’s watch wore on, Leliana began to lose her nerve. They hadn't been on the best of terms, after all. But Renya hadn't seemed particularly upset with her, either. And that prayer... Finally she took a steadying breath, stood a little straighter, and walked over to Renya without any idea of what she was going to say.

“You’ve seen… and touched… Andraste’s Ashes.” Maker, why was that what came to her mind? But she was committed now. “They are the holiest thing on this earth – the remains of the Maker’s chosen.”

Renya turned toward her, looking mildly surprised, either by her sudden appearance or by her conversation topic, Leliana wasn’t sure. “It is quite remarkable, yes,” she replied politely.

“You stood in their presence, and truly touched them...”

“I did,” Renya replied. “I would have let them be if it were not for Eamon, though.” It was true. Honestly, she would not have traveled to the Urn at all, except for the arl. _Well, that’s not entirely true,_ whispered a voice in her head. She glanced away from Leliana.

“I know,” Leliana said softly. “And that is what is so amazing. You, if you’ll forgive me, a Dalish elf, treating a prophet of the Chantry so respectfully…”

“Well, Andraste helped the elves, however accidentally.” Renya shrugged. “Prophet or no.”

A surprisingly easy silence fell between them. Renya began walking around the camp again, and Leliana followed her, walking shoulder to shoulder.

“I enjoy the nights at camp,” Leliana began later, after they had patrolled around the perimeter. “The night always seems more peaceful to me, safer.”

“I know what you mean,” Renya said, clasping her hands behind her back as they walked.

“I feel that the night grants us a reprieve from the troubles of the day.” She chuckled, and Renya smiled at the sound. “Silly, isn’t it? The darkspawn never sleep, and they lurk in the shadows…”

“It is not silly to seek moments to lay down your burdens.”

Leliana smiled. When was the last time someone had told her she wasn’t being silly to look for things that might not really be there? Her heart fluttered at the thought of what else might not really “be there.”

“I enjoy those nights…” She paused, but only briefly. “I enjoy those nights when we are standing guard together, even though it is often because I join you…” She glanced at the elf out of the side of her eye but couldn’t make out her expression. “I like when we are together, talking to pass the time in those small hours. Well,” she added thoughtfully. “I talk and you listen, mostly…” She glanced over again at Renya’s chuckle.

“Sometimes,” she continued softly. “I succumb and fall asleep, and wake… to find you still watchful,” she said gently. “And I know you’re watching out for me. Sometimes, you do this even when you are not watching the camp,” she added shyly.

“You never have to feel afraid with me. You are safe here.”

The words were spoken so soothingly, and Leliana’s heart swelled at the Dalish-accented voice speaking them. They stopped walking and Renya turned to face her. Leliana’s heart fluttered, and she felt both pleased and terrified.

“W-what I’m trying to say is… is that I trust you. I’m comfortable around you. I know you’ll be there when I need you.” Maker, she was rambling again. But she couldn’t stop.  
  
_Broken… fleeting…undeserving…she will leave you, too._ Her mind was screaming at her to stop, to walk away. Oh Maker, the green glints that were Renya’s eyes were staring at her, unblinking. She barreled on.

“You are our… our leader, and my friend, and… sometimes I think that m-maybe we could be more than that…” She twisted her fingers, smiling awkwardly. “Maker… look at me, stumbling over my words like an ill-educated peasant girl. Some bard I am…”

“You are cute when you are embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed!” Leliana denied forcefully. “I’m just… flushed… because of… the… heat… and don’t change the subject!”

Renya watched Leliana with some interest. Part of her brain was telling her to be careful, to remember the relish with which Leliana spoke of deception and how easily she had manipulated people.

But this Leliana, the one standing in front of her, was not the smooth, articulate bard that had charmed Owen or convinced the barman at the Spoiled Princess to serve them. This Leliana lacked the charm and grace even of the fevered woman who had – almost successfully – seduced and stabbed Renya.

No, this Leliana was a flustered young woman, fumbling over her words and waiting with apprehension for Renya’s response. This Leliana had given up the power of her silver-tongued bardic skills in favor of the stammering truth.

_But…_

Leliana’s heart sank as Renya looked away.

“I am never going to see my clan again, am I?”

“I… I don’t know.” Whatever Leliana had been expecting, it wasn’t that. Her heart sank further. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything…” she mumbled awkwardly.

Renya closed her eyes. If she was quiet, she could hear the singing in her mind. It was faint – the darkspawn were far away – but the singing was there. Always there, incessantly. She sighed; there really was no going back to her old life anymore, was there? Not since she drank from the Joining Chalice offered to her by Duncan at Ostegar months ago. Renya opened her eyes again, feeling bad when she saw the uncomfortable look on Leliana’s face.

The bard watched as green eyes crinkled in the dark, and she hardly dared to acknowledge the small bubble of hope that rose in her chest.

“I… I would like for us to be… more than friends,” Renya said softly. Her throat clenched and she looked away.

“Really?” Leliana said with surprise. She made a little noise in the back of her throat and smiled shyly. “N-no one told me. You… you felt the same way and didn’t do me the courtesy of informing me?”

Renya shrugged with a small nod. No, she hadn’t. She hadn’t been sure if that was what she truly wanted, and certainly had never wanted to speak those feelings aloud. But it was impossible to deny how she stood by Leliana when they fought darkspawn and would protect her above all else, and that she felt so much lighter when the bard was around, even considering recent events. She had lost count of how many times she had sat outside of Leliana’s tent, listening for her nightmares. And, time and time again, she found herself desperately – _desperately,_ echoed the voice in her head – wanting to trust her.

 _But…_ there was more. She took a deep breath to explain, her heart heavy. Leliana cut her off before she could say anything.

“You made me say all those things!” she said indignantly.

Renya swallowed, smiling again when she saw the grumpy look on the bard’s face. There would be time later to talk. Yes, of course there would be.

Leliana crossed her arms. “Why couldn’t you have said them first? Oh, you… Oh, how very awkward!”

“I thought you were comfortable around me?”

Leliana cleared her throat and looked down, glancing at Renya over the tops of her eyes. “Well, yes, b-but…” She glared into the green eyes, but her expression was playful. “Don’t question me!” She shook her head. “I am a woman and I reserve the right to be inconsistent!”

She looked away again. “Oh, why am I being such a baby about this? I must be a sight, spilling my guts…”

Renya considered the woman standing in front of her. Leliana began to fidget.

_Why doesn’t she say something? Why is she so silent? She must think I am such a fool._

A warm hand grabbed hers gently and she raised her eyes to meet the green twinkles that were looking at her. They looked sad and hopeful and lost and strong and… Leliana closed her eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by the emotions the usually-stoic elf was showing.

Renya stepped closer and tilted Leliana’s head to look at her. Leliana opened her eyes. The elf was looking at her kindly, and in the dim firelight she could see a smile tugging on the corners of her mouth, the hint of mischief in the look making her heart flutter. Leliana’s whole expression softened, a small smile on her lips. Renya stroked her cheek with her thumb.

She drifted in and kissed Leliana, wrapping her arm around the bard and continuing to stroke her cheek. Renya smiled into the kiss when she heard Leliana’s soft sigh and felt smooth fingers tangle in her hair.

Leliana pulled Renya closer, reveling in the elf’s warmth pressed against her. She was enveloped in fresh forest air and pine, and hugged the elf a little tighter. She almost expected the kiss to become demanding, as they so often had in her past, but Renya was tender, landing a few more soft kisses on her lips before leaning back to smile at her. Renya rubbed her cheek against Leliana’s, and Leliana reciprocated, heart fluttering and loving every moment that her skin touched Renya’s. Renya kissed her again, and Leliana sighed contentedly, a soft hum coming from her throat. They came apart.

“Hm… well…” Leliana said, looking pleased. “That… that settles it, then.”

The elf kissed her in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *mic drop*  
> Okay! Well, that just happened. Thoughts?
> 
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	71. Return to Redcliffe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party returns to Redcliffe.

Leliana awoke the next morning to a familiar shadow sitting outside her tent. Smiling, she dressed and exited silently – trying to not wake Nyviel – to find Renya sitting outside the flap with her eyes closed. The elf was leaning on the tent post, and, after glancing around to make sure the rest of the camp was still asleep, Leliana kissed Renya on the cheek to wake her. Renya startled, but smiled when she saw her.

“Good morning,” she said, rising. Leliana kissed her again. They came apart and Renya brushed a piece of hair from Leliana’s face. It stubbornly kept falling back, so she spent a few seconds silently grooming the bard, a smile on her lips. She leaned in to Leliana, her tattooed forehead resting against Leliana’s clear one, and kissed her gently before pulling away with another grin. A soft sound made her ears twitch and she let go of Leliana in time for Wynne to come out of her tent.

“Good morning, Warden,” Wynne said, raising an eyebrow at her. Renya nodded at her.

“Good morning” she said simply. “Did you fare well last night? It was quite cold.”

“Yes, thank you, Renya. I wonder how you are doing so well, sleeping outside as you do?” the mage replied.

The elf shrugged. “I was not raised in walls; we Dalish are used to weathering the different seasons.” She chuckled. “I just make sure I stay close to the fire.”

“’Tis another day of hard traveling, I suggest we move on as quickly as possible,” Morrigan said, striding over to the rest of the camp. Her tone was as arrogant as ever, but after their conversation a few nights ago Renya noticed a haunted look in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. Of course, she wanted to finish the errand to Redcliffe so they could return to Flemeth’s hut.

“If we press ourselves, we should arrive before nightfall,” Sten said, staring off into the distance.

“I did not realize you cared so much about the arl, Sten,” Renya commented with some surprise.

“I do not,” the qunari replied. “But we are low on supplies and Redcliffe is the closest village. The dwarves that follow us do not have tents or other necessities for surviving the cold.”

“…right.”

***

“This is the only magic I know how to do. It is not quite Elvhen, but…” Renya said with a small smile. She glanced up at Leliana, Alistair, and Nyviel and showed them a little stone. “Fenarel – another hunter – showed me.”

She held the stone in her fist and tapped her knuckles with her fingers. When she opened her hand, the stone was gone.

“What? No, you didn’t really make that disappear,” Alistair said, surreptitiously looking at the ground. Renya smiled.

“I do not have it.” She showed them her hands and patted her armored arms as if looking for a stone underneath. “Oh, wait…” She reached over to Leliana’s ear and made a little motion next to it. When she pulled away, she was holding the stone again. “Here it is!”

Leliana chuckled, drinking in the sound of Renya’s easy laugh as Alistair tried to figure out the trick and Nyviel, with a glance at Alistair, picked up a small stone and started to hover it just out of Alistair’s reach. Alistair stared at it, and Renya put her hand out, copying Nyviel’s motion and pretending she was the one moving it.

“No, this isn’t…” He ran his hand through his hair and turned to Nyviel desperately. “She’s not… Wait… _you’re_ …”

Renya laughed again as the stone floated into her hand.

“What do you think, lethallin? Do you think I could just impress the darkspawn to death?”

Alistair shook his head, looking a little grumpy. “Yes. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll just get Leliana to smile at the Blight and ask it nicely to _please go away._ ”

“These are solid plans, I think,” Renya replied, still grinning as Wynne called them to the evening meal. Leliana couldn’t help the pleasant flutter in her stomach as the elf winked at her.

***

True to Sten’s estimate, they arrived at Redcliffe Castle before the evening meal. They were shown inside immediately and were brought to the arl’s room. Renya breathed deeply as they passed through the room she had slayed the desire demon in. Connor’s toys were still on the floor. Leliana noticed what she was staring at and put her hand on the the back of the elf’s shoulder, guiding her down the hallway.

Bann Teagan was happy to see them. He embraced Alistair, and bowed to Renya courteously.

“My lady,” he said when he rose. “Has your quest been successful?”

Renya nodded and reached into her pack. Her hand brushed against the little toy knight as she pulled out the small vial of ashes. A reverent silence fell around the room as she offered it to him.

“By the Maker…” Teagan said, bowing his head. “The Sacred Ashes of Andraste…” He looked up. “Quickly…”

Isolde was sitting on the arl’s bed, holding an ashen-colored hand and staring at her husband sadly. She rose when she saw the visitors. Her eyes lingered on Renya, her expression hard to gauge, but she turned to Teagan.

“And?”

Wynne stepped forward. Renya handed the ashes to her without comment and stepped back. As much as she did not like Isolde, she could hardly bear to look at her; she had killed the woman’s son, after all.

“Let us begin without delay,” the mage said, turning back to the arl. Renya left the room, followed closely by Leliana. Shale had remained outside with Bodahn’s cart and Elgar, and Sten and Zevran had offered to seek out a shop for supplies, so Renya and Leliana were quite alone as they walked back into the throne room. Leliana heard a metallic thump come from behind her and turned, half-expecting to see Renya collapsed on the floor, but the elf was merely sitting, legs straight out in front of her, leaning back on her hands and staring into the fire.

Leliana quietly sat down next to her.

“Do you know…?” Renya shook her head. “You know how to read.”

“Yes?” The elf hadn’t really asked a question.

“So, do you also know how to… write the symbols for someone else to read?”

Leliana smiled. “Of c-… yes, I do.”

Renya turned to face her. “Could you help me write a note to Eamon? I…” She rooted in her pack and pulled out the little soldier. “I want to give this back to him. Connor… I want him to know that his son died bravely, like the knight he would have been, and that I am… I am…” Renya sighed and slumped over, grasping the wooden toy in both hands. “That I am sorry.”

She barely noticed Leliana rising and leaving the room. The bard returned a few minutes later and sat down next to Renya again, laying out a piece of parchment and an inkwell. She dipped a quill into the ink and readied herself to write.

“I… what can I even say?” Renya shook her head and rose. “There are no words suitable enough...” She left the room. Leliana sighed and looked down at the parchment in front of her. She dipped the quill again, scratched a brief message onto the paper, and folded it up quickly once it had dried. She tucked it deep into Renya’s pack before rising and following the elf.

She arrived upstairs in time to see Wynne, Nyviel, Morrigan, Alistair, and Teagan leaving the arl’s room. Letting them pass, she saw Renya hovering awkwardly in the doorway. Isolde looked over at and saw the elf watching her.

“He’s sleeping,” she said without emotion.

“Hm.”

Renya walked over to the vanity, ignoring Isolde as she followed her movements with her eyes, and placed the little wooden knight on the polished surface.

“Ir abelas, ma vhenan,” Renya said softly as she turned around. “I am… so sorry for your loss. For everything.” She started to leave the room, but the arlessa grabbed her arm to waylay her. The elf faced Isolde, who looked as if she wanted to say something, but then the arlessa released her and resumed watching her husband.

The Warden left the room, not surprised to find Leliana standing alone in the hallway. She took the bard’s hand without comment and walked them back down the hallway. Before entering the throne room again, Renya released Leliana and walked over to an empty bit of wall before sliding down it to wait for further news about the arl. Leliana joined her and couldn’t help but smile when Renya leaned against her.

“Renya?”

The elf looked up. Wynne was staring down at her with a disapproving look on her face.

“The arl will recover. As soon as he wakes he will come down.”

Renya nodded. “Thank you, Wynne.”

They didn’t have long to wait. About ten minutes later an older man with a graying beard entered the room. Teagan brightened when he saw him and embraced him warmly.

“Eamon!” the bann said as he released his brother. “It is so good to see you awake.”

“It is… good to be back,” Eamon said quietly. Renya noticed him holding the little toy soldier in his hand. He slipped it into his pocked and glanced at the Warden, giving her a sad nod.

“Send for the mage,” Eamon’s deep voice rumbled around the hall. Renya stood up and walked to Alistair’s side, her arms crossed as Jowan was brought in. He looked dejected.

“Yes, my lord?”

Eamon glared at him. “You are brought here under the charge of releasing demons in the castle and attempting to murder me. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I…” Jowan bowed his head. “I was paid by Rendon Howe and Teryn Loghain, but my fate is now in your hands. There is no defense that I can make that could account for your losses.”

“I should say not,” Isolde huffed from behind her husband.

“And what do you say, Warden?” Eamon asked, turning to Renya. “Isolde told me that you played a large role in trying to save both Connor and myself.” His eyes were sad, but the arl’s jaw was set as he held Renya’s gaze.

Renya sighed. “Jowan tried to atone for his actions, Eamon,” she said truthfully. “He wanted to help, and did as much as he could.”

Eamon arched a gray eyebrow. “So what do you think should be done with him?”

“Kill him,” Isolde interjected. Teagan shushed her.

“Agreed,” Alistair mumbled behind Renya.

“Surely you will not kill this man?” Morrigan asked. “He has tried to help. Does the Chantry not preach forgiveness? Perhaps the Chantry is more hypocritical than I thought…”

“Morrigan…” Leliana said with an exasperated sigh.

Renya glanced between Nyviel and Jowan. The younger elf looked furious and was glaring at the teenager with narrowed eyes.

“Solona Amell,” Nyviel growled. Jowan looked down, ashamed. “Neria Surana. Sister Lily. All because of you.”

“Send him back to the Circle,” Renya said softly. Isolde made a contemptuous noise in the back of her throat. “There is much damage that he has caused, I believe,” she added carefully, glancing at Nyviel. “And other lives are in the balance. I think his return to the Circle would begin to fix this.”

The arl sighed heavily and then nodded. “It will be as you say. Guards, see that this mage is brought back to the Circle.” He glared at Jowan. “And kill him if he tries to escape.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Jowan said with a small bow. “It is more than I deserve.”

“I should say so,” Isolde muttered.

Eamon turned back to the group as Jowan was handed over to two templar who had been standing in a corner. “I owe you my thanks, Warden,” he said to Renya. “You have done much for this town, and much for me…” He put his hand in the pocket with the toy, looking sad. “But I can hardly think that you came here by chance. What is it you wished of me?”

Renya sighed. How could she ask him to help them now? But she steeled herself, especially after she noticed Alistair inching away toward the back of the group.

“A Blight is upon us, Eamon,” she said softly. “And Cailan is dead. Loghain Mac Tir has proclaimed himself regent and is spreading lies that the Wardens have betrayed the king. We were hoping for your assistance in finding out who still remains loyal to…” She faltered. “You? Us? The… true king?”

The arl caught sight of Alistair, but didn’t say anything despite his obvious surprise. Instead, he returned his attention to Renya. “Of course. I will investigate who remains loyal, and will call a landsmeet as soon as we are ready. I understand the Wardens have treaties that require the assistance of people across Ferelden?”

“Yes,” Renya said, nodding. “We have already met with the mages of the Circle Tower, and will be traveling to meet with the dwarves and the Dalish soon.”

Eamon sighed heavily. “When you are ready, return here,” he said. “And we will plan our next move. The Blight must not overrun Ferelden, and Loghain must not take the crown. And Alistair…?”

Alistair shuffled up so Eamon could see him a little better, looking distressed.

“It is… good to see you again.”

“You, too, Uncle.”

The arl excused himself, saying he wished to rest, and Isolde helped him from the room. Bann Teagan approached Renya.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said with a smile, his kind eyes looking more relaxed that Renya remembered them. “You have truly saved this town and this family. You are… always welcome here.” He reached out and took Renya’s hand, bringing it to his lips. His lips brushed against her knuckles, and Renya smiled at him as he raised his head. She ignored Leliana’s jealous look.

“Ma serannas, falon. Thank you, Teagan. You have been nothing but kind.”

“As have you… Renya.”

They took their leave and made their way through the castle to their rooms. Renya stopped when they made it to the large room next to the arl’s.

“I am not staying here,” Renya said. Nyviel looked at her sadly. Leliana put a hand on her shoulder.

“Our rooms are down that hallway,” she said, pointing. “Renya, it’s too cold outside…”

“She’s right,” Wynne chimed in. “You must rest; and we are finally someplace that is warm, and where we will be safe.”

“I am not staying here,” Renya repeated stubbornly. “I am not… I cannot…” She shook her head. “I will see you tomorrow morning when we break the fast.” She spun on her heel and marched away. Leliana turned to follow her, but Wynne tried to waylay her.

“Let her go, Leliana,” Wynne said. “She wants to be alone.”

“If Nyviel had wanted to follow her, would you stop her?” Leliana said venomously.

“What sort of question is that?”

“You know very well that-”

Morrigan cleared her throat. She had watched Renya run down the hallway and disappear down the stairs. “Perhaps,” she said, raising her voice a little. “The Warden wishes to be alone? Perhaps, for once, we should respect her wishes without arguing?” She stared at Leliana, her expression unreadable. “Perhaps she does truly know what is best for her and… should be trusted.”

Leliana finally nodded and Wynne let go of her. She waited until they were about to turn a corner, and held back, letting everyone pass her. Zevran looked at her curiously, but simply shook his head and moved on. She turned and began to creep her way down the hall.

“Leliana, don’t.” Nyviel had hung back, suspecting Leliana’s departure. “Let her be. She’ll come back.”

“Do not be foolish, bard,” Morrigan hissed from around the corner. She stepped around and surveyed Leliana with her arms crossed. “The Warden has nearly taken your head off once, has she not?”

She didn’t respond and instead rushed down the hallway. Morrigan looked at Nyviel and shook her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How cute, Renya does a magic trick (teehee). Other than that, I have no other comment that could add to this chapter.
> 
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	72. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana follows Renya into the woods.

“Why anyone would choose this is beyond me,” the apostate huffed. Nyviel bid Wynne goodnight and shut the door behind her as she left. She sighed; they were having this conversation… _again._

“Choose what?” she replied evenly.

“This… amusement of a relationship. ‘Tis tedious and time-consuming, and ‘tis always about getting what you want.”

Nyviel arched an eyebrow. “You’re sounding like Leliana, now.”

“Am I?” the apostate asked with a frown. “But I do not give myself over to idle fancies. I am aware of the uses of such a relationship and use it to my advantage.”

“Is that what you are doing?” Nyviel asked again, arching her eyebrow. Once more, she was uneasy about the witch’s off-handed remarks about using relationships to an advantage.

“Of course not,” Morrigan snapped. “The Warden has said we are friends, and I think she is correct. We talk about important issues that are of interest to us, and she has helped me without asking anything in return. I have offered to listen to her problems, although I am thankful that she has not taken me up on the offer…”

Nyviel listened as Morrigan listed the reasons she and Renya were friends. For that was what it was: a list of reason. Not for the first time, Nyviel wondered why Renya trusted the apostate.

“…and I do not think I need to explain anything further about this to you,” Morrigan snapped now, rousing Nyviel from her thoughts. “The fact remains that love makes people do foolish things, and I do not care for it.”

“If Renya were a man, you would go for her, wouldn’t you?” Nyviel challenged. “And you’d be terrified. And do foolish things.”

“If she were a man?” Morrigan repeated with contempt. “This is a pointless conversation.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“The Warden has many… appealing characteristics, yes,” Morrigan allowed. “But this is no matter. I do not look for love.”

Nyviel sighed, defeated. “We generally don’t, Morrigan. It just tends to find us sometimes.”

***

It was dark outside, and most of the buildings had been closed for the evening. Leliana searched in vain for Renya, wishing she had brought a light, knowing the elf could easily see in the dark whereas the bard stumbled over the unfamiliar terrain. She hoped to catch a glimpse of the glinting green eyes in the shadows, but was unlucky in that, too, until she finally stumbled her way over to the deep blackness of the forest. A shadowy figure stood facing the trees. Suddenly wary, Leliana felt for her blades, secretly glad she had slipped the little dagger up her sleeve again.

The figure turned toward her, and Leliana’s heart jumped when she saw two green glints sparkle at her in the dark.

“Renya…”

“Go back, Leliana,” the elf murmured.

“No, wait…”

But the glints were retreating. “Go back. Leave me… leave me alone…” Renya’s voice cracked.

And Leliana heard quick footsteps retreating into the forest. After a pause, she ran in after them, following the steps as they twisted around the trees. Soon Leliana noticed the elf’s steps were getting further and further away from her. The bard was beginning to tire. After a few more minutes, she stopped running.

The forest was silent, and the footsteps were gone. No matter how much she strained her ears, Leliana could only hear the hooting of owls and the crunching of leaves as nocturnal creatures wandered around the woods near her. Leliana felt a little flurry of panic as she realized she had foolishly followed the footsteps into the woods without knowing a way back. The trees were so thick here, and the lights of Redcliffe so dim, that Leliana couldn’t possibly hope to find her way back to the village.

“Renya…?”

***

“…Leave me alone…” Renya said before turning and sprinting into the forest. She ran hard, and as silently as she could, listening to the sounds of the trees around her groaning in the wind and the sound of air displaced by the wings of owls as they stalked their prey. The elf ran for a long time, enjoying the feeling of running through the trees in the dark, feeling free for the first time since before she left her clan, not aware of the pounding steps trying to follow her in the dark. When she had run enough, she swung herself into a tree and climbed up, finding a nice bough to rest on. She leaned back on it and breathed deeply, enjoying the smell of the crisp clean air around her. A faint voice from some distance away reached her ears.

“Renya…?”

The elf sat upright with a start. Creators, Leliana had followed her? She looked around; there was no way for the bard to find her way back to the village, and the lone word hadn’t been enough for Renya to find exactly where she was. Silently she crouched and strained her ears, listening for another sound.

“Say something else, Leliana…” she murmured.

“…Renya?” The voice was farther away. Leliana was still moving, and quickly.

Renya rubbed her vallaslin, feeling guilty. She jumped down from the tree and listened again, deciding to not call out. Leliana, she reasoned, would not be able to find her in the dark, and Renya wasn’t about to start making noise and letting predators know where she was, either.

“Please, Renya… where are you?” The scared-sounding voice was even further away. Either Renya was going the wrong way, or Leliana kept changing the direction in which she was walking.

“I am coming. Do not worry.”

***

Leliana opened her eyes. She had wandered around the woods – well, run through them, actually – trying to find Renya until she had become so exhausted she collapsed at the roots of a very large tree, thinking to rest only a few moments, believing her panic to be enough to keep her awake. Apparently she had fallen asleep. She raised her head and saw someone standing over her with a bow drawn and arrow loosely fit on it, staring out into the forest in the early morning light.

“Renya?”

The elf turned and studied her seriously. “Good morning.”

Leliana started to stand and felt something heavy and furry fall off her. Renya had apparently taken out the lining of her armor and draped it across her while she slept. Elgar, too, had appeared and curled himself up next to the bard. He snuggled her a little as she moved, and she patted his head gently.

“You really need to stop following me when I leave,” Renya said sharply once Leliana had risen to her feet. Leliana looked at her in disbelief.

“You really need to realize that’s never going to happen.”

“You should not have followed me,” the elf repeated. “You could have gotten hurt. I have lived in a forest my whole life; there is nothing in here that can harm me. But you?” She shook her head.

Leliana frowned, stung. “Just because I’m not Dalish doesn’t mean I am helpless, Renya.”

“And what of the cold? Why did you not stay at the castle where it is warm? You did not even bring a blanket…” Renya said angrily.

“I was trying to find you and bring you back!” Leliana argued indignantly. “I didn’t intend to sleep leaned up against a tree!”

“But you did, and it was mere luck that I found you. I had to call Elgar and everything, and…”

Leliana glanced down at the dog and fur wrappings at her feet. Maker, underneath all that anger, she realized, was worry. Leliana felt her face relax as the elf continued her tirade.

“…to go back when I ask!” she finished, fuming. Leliana had never seen her look so furious. “Is that so hard to-”

Leliana shook her head and stepped toward the elf. She put her hands on Renya’s shoulders and kissed her gently on the cheek. She smiled when she saw Renya’s stunned expression.

“What are you…?”

With another shake of her head, Leliana kissed her again.

“Leliana… what…”

Another kiss, this one on her lips. This time the elf was silent.

“I shoudn’t have followed,” Leliana admitted quietly. “But you shouldn’t have run, either.”

Renya sighed. “You are right. Ir abelas. I am… sorry, Leliana.”

“Me, too.”

“I will not put you in danger again,” Renya said after a few silent moments.

“You mean you will not leave someplace in a temper again?”

Renya crossed her arms and smirked. “Nae. No. If I plan on doing that, I will make sure that you are restrained and cannot follow me.”

Leliana arched an eyebrow and smiled suggestively. “Restrained? Hm. I didn’t think Dalish liked things like that…”

“Like things like what?”

Leliana touched her forehead in quiet frustration. Renya clenched her jaw; she had clearly missed something again.

“There… are many things that Dalish like,” she tried vaguely. Leliana smiled at the attempt.

“Like what?” she teased. Renya reached out and stroked Leliana’s cheek gently, her eyes twinkling.

“I will never tell.”

Leliana leaned forward and kissed her again, lingering this time, and looped her arms around Renya’s shoulders. The elf returned the kiss before pulling away a little.

“We should go back,” she said. Leliana shook her head.

“Not yet,” she breathed, leaning in again. She didn’t want the soft kisses to end, or the gentle hands to leave her. Renya obliged, leaving one last kiss on her lips before pulling away again.

“We should go back,” Renya said with more firmness, looking disappointed. She released Leliana, picked up the wrappings from the forest floor, and nodded her head in the direction they were to begin walking.

Leliana followed with Elgar trotting beside her. She had never met someone who wasn’t distracted by her when she wanted them to be, but in her mind she kept hearing Renya say she wanted to be more than friends. It didn’t make sense to her; was this something she wanted, or not? She sighed as Redcliffe came back into view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, they're sort of getting this relationship thing. Almost. Sort of... right...?
> 
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	73. A Night at the Arl's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A evening spent at the arl's is always memorable.

“Thank you, m’lady,” one of the nobles said politely, giving Leliana a little bow after the song had ended. Leliana smiled and nodded at him before turning and melting back into the crowd. Eamon had insisted on holding a feast to celebrate the liberation of Redcliffe from the waking dead, and Leliana’s heart fluttered when she saw just how Orlesian the celebration was. It was no secret how much the arl loved his wife. From the centerpieces on the tables to the decoration and incense floating through the hall, Leliana could feel the influence of Orlais in every step she took from one side of the room to the other in the low-cut Orlesian dress Isolde had loaned her.

Of course, grand celebrations like this invited all kinds of mischief, and while Jowan had been escorted back to the Circle, it was possible that other conspirators were still lurking in the town. Leliana found herself scanning the crowds, searching for quiet conversations held a bit too hurriedly in the shadows, or wary looks thrown at the arl, but so far had found nothing. She hated how easily she fell back into the role of bard, smiling to disarm both men and women and easily engaging them in conversations that always left her with the information she sought.

“May I have this dance?” asked a familiar voice. Leliana turned and saw Alistair standing before her, his hand offered out as he bowed politely. He looked quite handsome in his Warden dress uniform with his sword glinting at his hip, and Leliana smiled to herself when she saw other young women admiring the young man, as well. Unbidden, her amused smiled widened when she saw how disappointed they looked as Leliana took his hand.

“It would be my pleasure, Alistair,” Leliana replied with a small curtsey of her own. He rose and awkwardly put his hand on her waist before they began to dance to the waltz that had just begun.

“Have you seen anything interesting?” he asked her in a low voice.

“I’ve seen many women interested in you,” she teased. “And I’ve seen you dance with a number of them.”

Alistair sighed. “Yes, I wish they wouldn’t. They giggle and fawn and…” He shook his head. “I’ve been hanging around Renya and you and Nyviel too much to appreciate the vapid chatter, I suppose…”

“You are too kind,” Leliana said with a smile before he led her through a graceful spin. “I also saw you talking to Eamon before.”

“Yes.” The tall Warden suddenly looked uncomfortable. “He… he gave me my mother’s amulet… I had broken it when he sent me away. I was so angry at him…” The music changed and Alistair stumbled a little before remembering what his feet were supposed to be doing; Leliana managed not to wince as he stepped on her toes. “Sorry. But he picked up all the pieces and glued them back together…”

“He cares about you, Alistair,” Leliana said gently.

“Right…” He shrugged. “I’m still not material for… you know,” he finished, lowering his voice. He frowned over Leliana’s shoulder. “How is Zevran managing to dance with two women at the same time?”

“He’s an elf,” Leliana said without thinking. Elf… she realized she hadn’t seen Renya all evening.

“I can’t believe he made us stay for this party,” Alistair was saying now. The song ended and he let go of Leliana. “Do you want to get something to eat?” He offered his arm to her again when she nodded.

“It was a very tactical move,” Leliana commented, being escorted by the Warden over to a table filled with meats, cheeses, and bread. “He has shown his support for the Wardens and clearly defined who is on what side of the issue, evidenced by who is here, and who is not.”

“Hm,” Alistair grunted through a mouthful of food. He smiled when he saw Leliana looking through the crowds again. He swallowed. “She’s over there,” he said quietly, pointing with a piece of game pie he had picked up. Leliana fought a blush; had she been so obvious?

“Go on, then,” Alistair said with a smug grin. Leliana glared at him before carefully making her way across the room.

Alistair had been right. Renya was standing in a corner of the room, talking to one of the arl’s guards. The guard was laughing at something Renya had said, and the elf smiled politely.

“You jest, Ser Warden,” the guard said, putting his hand on Renya’s shoulder.

“Jest?”

“You must be teasing me,” the guard clarified. “I can’t believe that.”

“Believe it,” Renya replied with a kind smile, ignoring the hand still on her shoulder. An upbeat song began playing.

“Would you like to dance, Ser Warden?”

Renya raised her eyebrows. She pulled her arm away from the guard gently. “No, thank you,” she said. “I do not know these dances.”

“I can show you, if you would like.”

Leliana heard the offer and started walking faster. Suddenly she found Bann Teagan blocking her path.

“Miss Leliana,” he said happily. “You look wonderful, if I may be so bold.”

“Thank you, Bann Teagan,” Leliana said politely while trying to side-step him.

“Would you honor me with a dance? You have been standing on the sides of the room for far too long.”

“I…” Leliana sighed. “I would be honored, Teagan.”

She cast another glance at where Renya had been standing and was relieved and disappointed when she saw the elf had vanished, and hoped she wasn’t dancing with the guard.

As she waltzed around the room with Teagan, she caught a glimpse of the elf grabbing something to eat next to Alistair; on the next circuit she was standing in another corner, talking to some of the serving elves. On Leliana’s third trip around the room the elf had disappeared again. This time Leliana was unable to find her.

The music ended and, after vaguely thanking the bann for the dance, Leliana slid through the crowds. She had glimpsed Nyviel, but the younger elf hadn’t seen Renya exit, either.

“I don’t think she’s one for parties, much,” Nyviel said, glancing around at the crowd. “At least human ones.”

Morrigan, standing in yet another corner and scowling at the room, had likewise lost track of the elf.

“If the Warden is able to leave this frivolous nonsense behind,” she snapped. “I should be allowed to return to my room, as well.”

“Did you see where she went?”

Gold eyes scanned the room quickly. “I did not,” Morrigan said. Leliana waited, but the witch didn’t say anything else.

“Do you have any guess as to where she might have gone?” Leliana prompted a little more forcefully.

“I do not.”

Leliana took a steadying breath. “Would you tell me if you did?”

Morrigan smiled at her. “I would not.”

“You’re not very helpful, are you?” Leliana deadpanned.

“I am,” the witch said haughtily. “But only on matters of importance.”

“Fine, fine…” Leliana walked away. She couldn’t help but overhear one of the young men in attendance ask Morrigan to dance with him.

“Begone, fool,” Morrigan snapped. “I have no need of companionship from the likes of you.”

“It’s so nice to see everyone getting along,” Wynne said with the hint of an eye-roll, appearing next to Leliana. Leliana chuckled.

“Yes.” She considered Wynne, wondering if she should ask the mage about Renya’s whereabouts.

But she didn’t have to. “Our Warden seems to have slipped out,” Wynne offered.

“Yes, she did. Nyviel seems to think she is not one for human celebrations.”

“I am not altogether surprised,” the mage mused. “Especially when the celebration is sponsored by Arl Eamon, Connor’s father.”

She hadn’t even thought about that. “Of course,” Leliana murmured.

Wynne watched her carefully. Finally she glanced away. “Oh, excuse me,” she said pointedly. “I think one of the mages from the Circle is sill here.”

Leliana nodded, surprised at what she supposed was Wynne’s silent permission to find Renya. She slipped out of the room into the relative quiet of the hall and spent the next twenty minutes wandering around looking for the elusive Warden.

She walked past the room where Renya had fought Connor’s desire demon without pausing. Renya certainly wouldn’t have sought refuge in there, Leliana thought. But then she paused. Noiselessly she stepped over to the door, slightly ajar, and peered in through the crack.

***

_“And now I’m the hero of all Redcliffe!” The little boy sat up straight and proud, imitating a knight’s stance. Renya played along, making her toy cheer for the boy who would never grow to manhood. Connor’s face suddenly fell and he looked scared._

_…_

_“Is she… gone…?”_

_“Yes. You were wonderful, Connor. You fought her off.”_

_“It hurts… Miss Renya, it hurts so badly…”_

Renya clenched her fist and pressed it into the carpet, staring into the fire.

_“You have to be a hero now, too, Miss Renya. Then we’ll both be heroes, like with the dragon.”_

“Ir abelas,” Renya whispered. She closed her eyes when she heard the soft sigh come from the doorway. If she was honest, she had wondered how long it would take for Leliana to find her. She kept her eyes closed, but Leliana stayed in the doorway, maintaining a respectful distance. A few silent minutes later, Renya rose and turned toward the door.

“You are not at the celebration,” she observed.

“Neither are you,” Leliana returned with a hint of a raised eyebrow.

“You are a human,” Renya said, turning to stare into the fire. “This is a human party.”

Leliana took a step into the room. “Is that why you are up here?”

Renya was silent for a long time. “No,” she finally admitted. “Eamon named me the Champion of Redcliffe.” From her tone of voice, she may have been telling Leliana she was being sent to the dungeons.

“Yes, the crowd was quite pleased. It was certainly good for the Wardens,” Leliana tried carefully. Renya’s eyes flashed when she turned back to face Leliana, but the bard forced herself to not step back. The elf looked furious. She glanced down at the little wooden dragon she had unconsciously been holding.

_“And now I’m the hero of all Redcliffe!”_

She put the toy on the mantle. “Maybe I should have sent Morrigan. Or Wynne,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Don’t do that,” Leliana said sharply. “Don’t think that way. Wynne said in the Tower that people in a desire demon’s thrall often… often die. And Irving was not hopeful, either.” Leliana took another few steps forward. “Do you… do you doubt Nyviel’s abilities?”

“What? No.” Renya sighed. “Go back to the celebration, Leliana.”

“I’m-I’m not leaving you here,” the bard replied, crossing her arms. “You saved the arl, saved Redcliffe… no,” she added sharply when Renya looked like she was about to interrupt. “Please come back downstairs,” she finished quietly.

Renya shook her head, clenching and unclenching her jaw a few times, thoughtful. She obviously remembered her promise to not flee.

“If you won’t go for yourself,” Leliana said carefully, her heart hammering. “Will you at least return for me? I am missing your… your conversation.” She swallowed.

Renya arched an eyebrow at her. Finally she nodded and offered her arm in a clumsy imitation of how she had seen Eamon escort Isolde. Leliana took a steadying breath and tried to suppress her smile as she took it.

“So… What is all this? Escorting me back to the ball?” she asked playfully after Renya had carefully guided her down the stairs.

Renya offered her a wry smile. “You snuck out of the hall without anyone seeing you, didn’t you?” She tugged Leliana’s arm a little. “You are too beautiful to go unnoticed.”

Leliana opened her mouth to ask what she meant by “going unnoticed,” when she registered that Renya had referred to her as beautiful. Her heart skipped a beat.

Renya quickly took the last few steps into the hall.

“There is the Champion!” someone nearby said happily. “We had wondered where you had gone.”

Suddenly Leliana found the two of them swarmed by admirers. At first they all were chattering at Renya but, as the elf floundered and Leliana intervened, the bard found more and more of the attention on herself. And how beautiful she looked. And how graceful she had been on the dance floor. And was she from Orlais? Because her accent is just so alluring…

“Thank you,” Leliana said with a charming smile, again falling back onto her bardic skills easily as she tried to find a polite way to exit the conversation. She noticed Renya had disappeared from her side and cast around until she saw the elf standing a short distance away, grinning knowingly at her.

Leliana continued to be showered with compliments, and smoothly accepted them while gently rebuffing other propositions thrown at her. She started to slowly make her way out of the crowd when one woman grabbed Leliana’s hand roughly.

“Orlesian, are you?” the woman said with a smile. “I know a few things we could do that would remind you of home.” She winked when she saw Leliana’s eyebrows raise. “Isn’t that what you Orlesians get up to at your wild parties? Hedonistic, raw…”

“Excuse me,” Leliana said gently, resisting the pull on her hand. “I don’t think…”

“Good, then you can just follow my lead!” the woman replied with a laugh, placing her drink down on the nearest table.

Leliana was about to respond when her hand was pulled roughly out of the other woman’s. Leliana glanced at the elf who had materialized next to her. Renya looked at her and quickly went back to glaring at the woman, ears red up to their pointy tips.

The woman brightened a little. “Ser Warden! I didn’t expect-”

“Dance with me,” Renya said, looking uncomfortable, still staring at the woman. The woman and Leliana both stared at her in confusion.

“Excuse me?” the woman asked. Renya turned to Leliana.

“Dance with me,” she repeated in the same curt tone, pulsing her jaw once. She offered her hand in an imitation of Alistair’s movement and bent into a stiff bow, still looking awkward and angry.

Leliana’s heart fluttered at the elf’s jerky movements. She took Renya’s hand.

“I would be honored, Renya,” Leliana said, carefully adding emphasis to the elf’s name. The woman startled at the familiarity between the Orlesian and the Champion of Redcliffe before Renya swept Leliana out onto the dance floor.

…and then quickly off the dance floor again. Leliana looked disappointed as Renya found a seat at the edge of the room. The elf noticed.

“What?”

“You… do not wish to dance?” Leliana tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“I do not know how.”

A very upbeat, country-sounding song began playing, and the dancers began whooping and clapping along with the music.

“It’s easy… well, I don’t know this one,” Leliana admitted when she noticed what the dancers were doing. “This one is much more Ferelden than some of the others. B-But we could try it, anyway,” she finished with a little apprehension.

Renya was studying her. “You are free to join in if you would like.”

“But I-” Leliana stopped abruptly and looked away. The elf rose.

“You wish to dance… with me,” she said softly. After a brief hesitation, Leliana nodded, still not looking at Renya. A hand came into her line of vision. She looked up and saw Renya smiling at her.

“Then, let’s dance.”

Renya glimpsed Alistair grinning at her and giving her a thumbs up from the buffet table, and offered a small smile of her own before taking Leliana’s hands. They started to stumble through the Ferelden dance that had the dancers quickly spinning around the room, laughing as they tripped over themselves. Finally the song ended. Leliana leaned against Renya.

“That was fun!” she said happily, trying to catch her breath. The music started again, and the two women looked at each other.

No one was able to speak to either the Champion or her Orlesian dance partner for the rest of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww.....
> 
> I wanted to leave you guys on a positive note and not some weird plot/relationship cliffhanger, as I will be out of town for a week with limited (read: no) access to internet. So, I'll be back in a week! See all you lovely folks then :)
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	74. Regrets

At Renya’s insistence, they left soon after breaking the fast the next morning and restocking their supplies. The village was barely out of their sight when Morrigan turned to Leliana.

“I imagine you have already composed a suitable ballad to commemorate the events at Redcliffe, Leliana?”

“Why would I do such a thing?”

Morrigan chuckled. “You have taken up your instruments once again, have you not?”

“I…I have… In a fashion…”

“A bard takes events of great import and puts them to tale, do they not?” the witch asked, raising an eyebrow.

Leliana was incensed. “What happened at Redcliffe was horrible! So many people died, and they were violated by unimaginable evil forces!”

Morrigan laughed. “That was not so difficult, was it? You may wish to add music, however.”

Renya groaned. She was fairly certain the witch was trying to make a joke, but Morrigan’s jokes were never… easily understood. Or well received.

And it wasn’t. “You make it sound as if you enjoyed what happened there!” the bard returned angrily. “I can barely stomach to think of it.”

“But we were successful in the end,” Morrigan said thoughtfully. “Victory without cost has little worth.”

“I just… I think of what that poor little boy went through… No, I do not want to glorify what happened there,” Leliana said with a glance at Renya.

Morrigan tutted. “Then who will learn from these events? I would think on it some more, were I you.”

“It would be tragic if Connor was forgotten. His actions were heroic, even if misguided,” Renya said softly.

“I think there will be many heroic and tragic deeds that will want to be remembered by the time this Blight is over,” Leliana replied gently. “And I do not think I am ready to sing about a little boy who died.”

Renya nodded, staring straight ahead. A cold wind blew, and Renya’s ears twitched uncomfortably. She reached up and covered the tops of them, turning to Nyviel.  
“The one thing I hate about the winter is that the tips of your ears get so cold,” she said, holding them. Nyviel nodded. Leliana had given her earmuffs, but they did not cover the pointy tops of the elf’s ears.

“I could help you with that,” Leliana commented, rooting in her pack for the scarf that she had bought with the earmuffs.

“What are you going to do? Hold my ears for me? That would be a sight,” Renya quipped with a half-smile.

“No, I… oh, you…”

“Perhaps you will help me then, my dear?” Zevran appeared next to the bard with a charming smile. “I would not object to being held by a lovely woman such as yourself.”

“Zev, you’re impossible,” Nyviel said, rolling her eyes.

“On the contrary, most people seem to tell me I am quite easy.”

Morrigan grunted and looked at Renya. “I shall return,” she said simply, before transforming into a raven and fluttering off.

“Oh, look. You’ve upset her,” Leliana said, watching Morrigan fly away.

“Ah,” Zevran replied with a theatrical sigh. “I only wish for a smile on her.”

Renya cut behind Leliana as she went to talk to Alistair. As she went, she dragged her fingertips surreptitiously along Leliana’s shoulderblades and smiled when she felt Leliana’s muscles tighten in surprise. Leliana shot her a very saucy look and Renya grinned back. Her smiled faded when she saw Nyviel shaking her head, giving an almost-imperceptible nod in Wynne’s direction. The older mage was watching the Warden and Leliana very carefully, her mouth in a thin line.

***

Three uneventful days passed. Morrigan was explaining shapeshifting to Nyviel when the party came to an abrupt halt. Alistair and Renya, at the front of the group, stood shoulder to shoulder staring out over the snow-covered ground toward a massive castle-like structure in the distance. Without a word, the two began marching toward the stone towers, much faster than they had been walking before. The reached a colossal stone bridge with a hole blown into it.

“It seems like a lifetime ago…” Alistair murmured sadly. Renya nodded.

“Ostegar,” Wynne said softly, looking sad.

Alistair began to march across the bridge, Renya at his side, when all of a sudden the elf stopped with a cry.

“Look!”

“Maker…”

Cailan was hanging, dead and naked, from a twisted clump of metal, his arms outstretched and his head slumped forward. His body looked like it had been crushed.

“We can’t just leave him here,” Alistair said, averting his eyes.

Renya looked at Zevran, who nodded and helped her take the king’s body down. They built a pyre and placed him on it. Wynne knelt and lit the wood, stepping back and allowing Alistair to step forward and pray over his half-brother’s body. Leliana stood by his side. Morrigan, scoffing at the treatment of the dead king, walked away and stood with her back to the fire, looking out over the valley below the bridge. Sten followed her.

Sighing, Renya watched the fire slowly consume Cailan’s body. She turned away and gazed out toward the massacred camp and beyond. Would they find Duncan’s body? She shivered. Did she _want_ to find Duncan’s body?

Alistair joined her a few minutes later, and together they silently walked to the old Grey Warden camp, the others trailing behind them. Even Elgar seemed morose as they made their way past burned down tents and destroyed tables. That was where the mages had stood in the Beyond, and this was where the man had grabbed Renya, thinking she was a servant. Here was where the merchant’s stand had stood, where she had bought her armor. That crushed piece of wood was where she had first met Daveth and Ser Jory…

“Alistair…” She crouched on the ground and picked up a stone chalice. Her eyes were wide.

“Maker… that’s from your Joining… May Andraste’s grace shine on Daveth and Jory,” he murmured. Renya bowed her head, silently asking Falon’din to guide them to the rest.

Zevran was digging through a chest where the king’s tent had been. Renya was the only one who noticed as he slipped some paper into his pocket, giving her a look and shaking his head, glancing at Alistair.

A roar shook them from their thoughts. Out of nowhere, it seemed, an enormous ogre was charging at them, surrounded by smaller darkspawn. In its chest were two swords. Renya noticed a tall darkspawn wielding a mage’s staff, and she shouted out a warning. Nyviel and Morrigan focused on the dark mage as the risen ogre ran at them.

With a ferocious yell, Renya ran forward, drawing her swords and clambering onto the beast with little effort. Holding onto the monster with one hand, she jabbed her sword again and again into the creature’s neck and back, not noticing, or caring, if anyone was helping her. The blood was pounding in her ears and, had she had access to the mirror she had desired so long ago, she would have seen how fierce the elven Warden looked.

The creature bellowed, swiping at her, but she dodged his attacks easily, swearing at him in Dalish, cursing him for the troubles he had caused, promising to kill him as many times as it took for him to _stay dead_ and stop haunting this place that had been made sacred by the sacrifice of so many.

Finally, the ogre went down, falling backwards with Renya still riding on its shoulders.

“No!” Leliana screamed as she watched the elf go down with the monster. The creature collapsed in a puff of snow stained red by its blood. When the air cleared, Renya was standing next to the beast’s head, swords still drawn, staring down at it with burning hatred.

The dark mage cried out, leaning on his staff. With a snarl, Renya pulled out her hunting knife and flung it at the darkspawn, hitting him between the eyes. He crumpled and fell in a heap. She strode over and pulled her knife out, cleaned it, and replaced it in her belt without a word before stalking back to the ogre. Grunting, Renya pulled out the swords from the ogre’s chest. One was Duncan’s longsword, the other was…

“Is that… that’s Cailan’s,” Alistair said with wonder. “That’s Maric’s blade…” He took it from her and examined it.

“Those are made of dragonbone,” Sten rumbled from behind them. “I am impressed the humans have access to such materials and are able to craft such weaponry.” Alistair sheathed the sword, replacing his own, and Renya did the same with Duncan’s blade.

“Look at this,” Nyviel said. She was crouching on the ground a few feet away, examining a piece of flat metal sticking out from the snow. Digging it out with her hands, she held up a shield with a blue griffin on it.

“That’s Duncan’s,” Renya said quietly, falling to her knees and taking it from the younger elf. She noticed that there was a mound underneath the snow from where Nyviel had gotten the shield, but no one seemed to want to uncover what lay beneath the white blanket. Renya rose and handed the shield to Alistair.

“Something to remember him by?”

Alistair took it sadly and slung it on his back.

“I suddenly feel very old,” he commented, his voice sounding broken.

“We were all younger when we were here last,” Wynne said softly, looking at the two Wardens sadly.

Both Wardens sighed in unison, looking around the destroyed area.

“Let’s go,” Alistair said heavily. “There is nothing left for us here.”

***

Renya was staring out into the forest when footsteps she didn’t immediately recognize came up behind her.

“Are you alright, Renya?” It was Wynne. Renya turned around.

“Yes, Wynne. Ma serannas.”

Wynne arched an eyebrow. “You’ve been very quiet all day today.”

“I did not realize I was so talkative usually,” she replied with a smile. The mage laughed.

“Well, no. That’s fair. But you have been quieter than usual.”

The smile faded from Renya’s face. “I have just been thinking about Ostegar,” she said sadly.

Wynne nodded. “Yes, that was a difficult day for all…” she began gently.

“Do you have any regrets, Wynne?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you have any regrets?” Renya asked. “You were one of the senior enchanters at the Circle, and I have heard you give sound advice to Alistair many times.” She sighed. “Do you have any regrets?”

Wynne chuckled lightly. “I see. You are thinking that I must see myself as the great adviser here…”

Renya folded her arms and looked back toward the forest. “No, I just…” She shrugged. “Nevermind.”

Wynne watched Renya silently for a moment, and then sighed. “Yes. I do have regrets. Many, in fact. But my biggest regret,” she said sadly. “Happened a very long time ago. I was young, and my first apprentice was a young mage named Aneirin. He was fourteen when he came to the circle, and mistrusted humans greatly, especially humans in authority.”

Renya’s ears pricked up with interest. “He was Dalish?”

The older mage smiled but shook her head. “No, he was from the alienage in Denerim. A city elf. They are treated just as poorly as the Dalish, I imagine, if not moreso because they are constantly surrounded by those who hate and fear them, and have no chance of escape,” she said carefully. Renya frowned, looking thoughtful, but didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, I was his mentor, and I was… hard on him, to say the least. Too hard; he would try to talk to me, but I would ignore him and tell him to concentrate on his spellwork.” She sighed again. “I had the best mentors. Why did I not learn from them?”

“Was he talented?”

“Yes, very.” Wynne looked away. “He broke out of the Tower barely a year after he arrived. He had always spoken of the Dalish and how he hoped to find them.”

Renya nodded. “He must have returned to a different clan than mine. I do not know any elves named Aneirin in the Sabrae.” But her expression faltered at Wynne’s look.

“The templar hunted him, called him a maleficar.” Her voice became small. “I begged them to tell me if he suffered, but the would not tell me a thing about him. His own mentor, and they wouldn’t tell me…” The mage looked away, and Renya’s anger at the mention of templar hunting elves cooled when she saw Wynne’s depressed expression. She reached out and held Wynne’s shoulder tightly.

“He may have found the Dalish, after all,” she said quietly.But Wynne shook her head.

“The templar are very thorough, as you know,” she said. She was silent for a long time. “The apprentices that came after Aneirin benefited from what I learned from him. It was as if he was the teacher, and I the pupil.” She took a deep breath. “So there you have it. My biggest regret.”

Renya was quiet for a long time, staring at a place somewhere beyond Wynne’s shoulder. “You regret not fulfilling your duty.” She looked into Wynne’s eyes, and the mage was surprised at how sad the elf looked. “Because the person you were supposed to help and protect was hurt because of it.”

“Yes,” Wynne said after a pause. “Yes, I think you’re right. And what of you?” she added. “What do you regret? You said you were thinking of Ostegar. Do you regret becoming a Grey Warden?”

“Do I regret it?” Renya echoed. She looked away and didn’t respond. Wynne patted her shoulder.

“There is much responsibility you bear, Renya,” she said seriously. “But know that you are part of an order that has stood against the greatest evils of the world and emerged victorious each time. The Grey Wardens…”

Wynne continued on telling a story of Wardens of old, but Renya’s mind had wandered. _Regrets._ Her thoughts drifted to Merrill, sobbing behind her as she walked away. Of Tamlen, dead and buried far from his family. What of Ashalle, who had now lost both of her children? Duncan had said she was tainted from the mirror they had found, and she had followed him because it was the will of the clan, even after he said she might never return. She remembered the cool stone of the Joining chalice in her hands, and the thick, warm blood of the darkspawn passing her lips. In an instant, her life was taken away.

“Ma serannas, Wynne,” Renya interrupted quietly. “I do not think I want to talk about this anymore. There are many things I have done since Tamlen’s disappearance that I have felt regret over, and I am not sure what my biggest one is.”

“Fair enough, Renya. I’m here if you need me.”

“Serannas, Wynne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sidestepped a bit of what happens when they return to Ostegar, but I think it works... Anyway, I guess it's back to reality for Renya and the crew after their brief celebration at Redcliffe.
> 
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	75. Protect

“You sing a great deal.”

“Yes, I do,” Leliana replied, turning to the qunari. “Music lifts my spirit. Would you like me to stop?”

Sten shook his head. “I didn’t say that. Was that part of your Chant?”

Leliana laughed. “No! It was a ballad about a highwayman and the tavern girl who loved him. Could you not tell?”

Sten frowned at the thought. “All your language sounds the same to me. I thought you were singing of vegetables, actually.”

“Vegetables?”

“I can go no further,” Morrigan said, halting her walking abruptly. The whole party stopped and looked at her. The witch stared at Renya. “Flemeth’s hut is too close for my liking, as it is. We shall set up camp here, and I will wait until you have completed the task you have promised,” she said crisply, voice full of business.

“You can’t boss her around like that,” Alistair said crossly. Morrigan leveled a contemptuous gaze at him.

“Boss her around?” Morrigan repeated. Renya interrupted swiftly, trying to avoid an argument.

“No, I would not have known otherwise,” she said diplomatically. “Yes, let us find a safe place to camp and then we will find Asha’bellanar.”

“Asha’bellanar?” Nyviel asked as they set up camp. “Even I have heard of her. You didn’t tell me she was Morrigan’s mother…” She lowered her voice. “Are we really going to kill her?”

Renya sighed. Nyviel nodded in understanding. Morrigan walked over and stood next to Renya, her face tight.

“Morrigan?”

“I… do not wish to stay in the camp alone, Warden,” she said stiffly. “If there can be someone to stay here, in case anything should go awry…”

“I will stay with you, dear,” Wynne said kindly. Zevran, too, offered his services.

“Oh goody,” Morrigan said flatly. Renya gave her a look and the witch sighed. “Thank you,” she amended without emotion.

“Perhaps we should not all return to her hut. She will certainly know we do not come in peace if we all were to march up to her. Especially if we were to march up to her without Morrigan,” Renya suggested.

“But Flemeth is a powerful shapeshifter. She will not go down without a fight,” Morrigan replied. She sounded concerned. Coming from anyone else, Renya would have assuaged her fears and only brought a few people with her, but for Morrigan to sound anything but self-assured…

“Ma nuvenin, lethallan,” she said. “We will be back soon, I hope.”

And so they set off. It only took them another hour to reach the hut. Flemeth was outside, as if waiting for them.

“Ah, I see you have returned, yet the Blight still lingers. Why have you returned, without my daughter?”

“Your daughter is safe, Asha’bellanar,” Renya said, trying to keep her voice even.

“We’ve discovered how you have stayed alive for all these years,” Alistair said fiercely, surprising Renya.

“Have you?” Flemeth said with interest. “And has Morrigan told you that? Did she read that in a book that none of you are able to understand? Ah, how nice she has found someone to dance to her tune…”

An awkward silence hung in the air.

“Should I dance to yours, instead?” Renya asked.

Flemeth chuckled. “Why dance at all? Why not sing?”

“She is my friend,” Renya answered quietly. “I do not want to see her hurt.”

Flemeth waved a hand carelessly. The motion was so like Morrigan’s that Renya shook her head. “She wishes for my grimoire, I presume? Take it. Tell her you have killed me. She will not know the difference.”

Renya sighed. “Until she returns and you… possess her.”

“Such idle fancies!” Flemeth replied with a laugh. “Come, Renya, I knew your father, visited your clan. You would turn against me now?”

“I am… trying to explore the options before concluding anything,” Renya said as politely as she could. Flemeth looked impressed.

“Now that is a tune that even I can dance to!” She peered at Renya. “So, what have you decided?”

“I do not wish you hurt, Asha’bellanar, but I cannot lie to my friend.”

“Such loyalty…” Flemeth said with wonder. She nodded thoughtfully to herself, as if deciding something. “You have power within you, Mahariel, but you leave me no choice. If you want my grimoire, come and take it!”

She ran onto a little clearing and transformed into a mighty dragon in a blinding flash of light.

“Maker preserve us,” Alistair said, pulling out his sword and shield. The griffin caught the sun.

“This does not look easy to squish,” Shale said flatly. “But I shall enjoy trying. It has wings, and must therefore be just as vile as birds.”

“Here,” Renya said urgently, handing her bow to Leliana. “Stay hidden.”

Alistair, Sten, and Shale all charged, Elgar on their heels. The dragon roared and spit fire at them, which they somehow all avoided. Nyviel glanced at Renya nervously. The Warden had stayed where she was, watching the fight with a torn look on her face.

“Renya?”

With a nod, Renya charged, leaving the mage and the bard behind her. The fight was messy, as the dragon was fierce and, not surprisingly, fought with the intelligence of a human. Not for the first time, Renya was knocked aside by the creature’s gigantic tail.

“Mythal, have mercy on me,” she groaned as she stood with a wince.

Then a very strange thing happened. The dragon checked itself mid-roar, and looked at Renya. If a dragon could show shock, this one would have. Alistair capitalized on the opportunity and stabbed at the dragon. It roared and collapsed with another, final fiery breath. As the dragon fell, Renya felt something pass through her, as if she were reeds in the wind, and heard a voice murmur something in a language she did not know. The marsh went silent as the companions surveyed the dead dragon.

“O Falon’din, lethanavir, friend of the dead, guide her feet, calm her soul, lead her to her rest,” Renya murmured before turning and walking back to the wooden hut. She picked the lock and entered.

There was no fire in the fireplace.

“That is odd,” Renya commented with a frown. “Did she know we were coming?”

They found an old black leather-bound book sat on a table, open to a page with writing on it. Next to it sat a set of clothing, not dissimilar to what Morrigan already wore.

“What does this say?” Renya asked, pointing to a page in the book.

“Robes of Possession,” Leliana read. Their eyes met briefly before Leliana went back to reading the page. “It says that if the spell caster dies before the… victim wears the clothes, the magic will break.” She looked up. “Maybe we should just take this all with us?”

“Why not? We can always dispose of these later,” Renya said, indicating the clothing. She tucked the book safely under her arm and they returned to camp, Renya carefully looking anywhere but at the slain dragon.

***

“You have done it!” Morrigan said with relief. Alistair presented her with the book and she took it from him reverently. “Thank you. Thank you,” she said again, looking at Renya. “This means so much to me. I cannot imagine you were able to retrieve this without a hard battle.”

“Well… I do not want harm to come to you, lethallan,” Renya said, unsure how to answer that.

“But what I don’t understand,” Morrigan said. “Is why you would promise me this at all. Surely this comes to me with strings yet attached.”

Renya shook her head. “I am your friend, Morrigan,” she said simply.

Morrigan looked touched and thoughtful. “Yes, friends. Hm.” She shook her head. “And what of these clothes?”

“They were… next to the book,” Leilana said, touching the scant material. “It was opened to a page marked ‘Robes of Possession,’ but we don’t think they will harm anyone. We… thought they would be interesting to you.”

Morrigan’s face darkened. “Yes, well… I will study this. You have my thanks,” she said. Her eyes met Renya’s. “Truly.”  
Renya nodded to her and began to walk away.

“Warden, if I may have one more moment?”

“Of course, Morrigan. What is it?”

Morrigan took a deep breath, watching as Alistair and the others continued on without Renya. “I… I wish to know something.”

Renya raised her eyebrows. “Anything.”

“I wish to know why you would risk your life, and the lives of your friends… for me.”

The elf looked at her incredulously. She reached out and put a hand on Morrigan’s shoulder without thinking but, for the first time, the apostate didn’t seem to mind.   
“I will always protect you, Morrigan.”

The gold eyes shimmered a little, and Morrigan suddenly looked again young and vulnerable. “I… you should not be so… While I appreciate the sentiment, you have no idea what will happen in the days to come, to make such promises.”

“I –”

“Let us move on now,” Morrigan said, turning away from the Warden. “There is much I wish to discover in Mother’s grimoire.” She stroked the book gently and glanced over her shoulder at the Warden.

“Thank… good night.”

***

“Mercy! Please, by the grace of the Maker and His Bride, Andraste, mercy!”

Renya, who had been chatting with Zevran, looked up. A haggard-looking man was running toward them.

“What is it? What is wrong?”

“Please, messere!” the man cried, throwing himself at Renya’s feet. His hair was disheveled and his face was covered in ash and blood. “I ask you to take pity on me!”

“Yes, of course,” Renya said, not knowing how else to respond. She reached to comfort him and Alistair came over. “What is wrong?”

“The darkspawn!”

Alistair and Renya shared a look.

“I don’t sense any darkspawn nearby,” Alistair said to the elf. “He’s hallucinating.”

“Maker! There were so many! So many dead!”

Renya frowned and turned to Zevran. “Give him some water, then maybe he will make more sense.”

Zevran jogged over to Bodhan’s cart without another word. Leliana meanwhile had walked up to see the trouble. The man looked up at her and gasped.

“You!” he cried, scrambling to his knees and reaching for her face. “You!” He jumped up, pulled her into a hug, and began to cry.

“It’s… it’s alright,” Leliana said, hugging him back awkwardly.

“Thank the Maker! Sister Leliana, you must help us!”

Leliana felt all eyes fall onto her. Zevran walked over with a waterskin and a cup.

“Here,” he said, pouring out some water. The man snatched the cup from his hand and gulped it loudly. He took a breath and looked at Leliana again.

“Lothering. Sister, it’s… it’s fallen to the darkspawn!”

“What?” Leliana asked sharply. “When?”

“Last night! Please, Grey Wardens!” he cried, looking back at Renya and Alistair. “Please help us!”

They Wardens glanced at each other again and ran after the man, Renya making a motion for the others to follow them.

They smelled the city before they saw it. Dark smoke rose and the smell of burning, rotting flesh mingled with the scent of charred wood.

“Maker…” Nyviel murmured as they got closer. Buildings were smoldering and the pretty picture that Alistair had once commented on now looked like something from a nightmare. They ran along the Imperial Highway before the companions skidded to a stop.

A small force of templar lay dead on the stones, some with their necks at odd angles, others disfigured to the point where if they had not been wearing the unmistakeable armor, they would have been unrecognizable as people. Renya shook her head and she felt nauseous. She caught herself feeling bad for the templar guards.

“No!” the nameless man screamed, clawing his fingers through his hair. “They stood to protect us! I was supposed to get help! No! Why would the Maker allow this?” He ran forward again, stepping carefully around the dead bodies and running toward the town.

“Wait!” Renya called, following him.

The town was dessimated. Darkspawn had razed the sleepy little village, and a few of the creatures still lumbered in and out of the buildings. The street was littered with dead humans of all ages. Renya carefully avoided looking at the small human fledglings, lying with their last horrified screams still etched on their faces.

“No…” Leliana murmured, pulling Renya’s bow off her back. “Maker, no…”

“Watch out!” cried Alistair.

A small horde of darkspawn appeared, led by three large hurlocks, an emissary, and two hulking ogres. A band of smaller genlocks followed, bearing swords and bows.

“The emissary!” Renya called, ducking an incoming arrow.

Morrigan ran forward with a yell and in a flash of light transformed into a wolf. She charged with Elgar, both howling as they knocked down the smaller spawn. Nyviel stepped in front of Renya and shot a spell at the emissary, which froze it where it stood long enough for Alistair to fall on it, slicing off its head with his blade.

Arrows whizzed past Renya’s ears as she charged with Sten and Zevran, and she was vaguely aware of Wynne standing back by Leliana, casting shielding spells for herself, the bard, and Nyviel.

Leliana, meanwhile, was firing arrow after arrow, her ears buzzing with guilt as she took in the wreckage around her. Who had survived? Who had escaped? Was this really the will of the Maker?

Should she have stayed to help? Did her dream cause her to run from the very place she was needed most? Perhaps it had only been a nightmare, like the others had said…

Evenually the fighting diminished until a pile of darkspawn was added to the human corpses lying in the town. Alistair and Renya shared weary glances, catching their breath.

A loud wail caught everyone’s attention. Leliana was kneeling on the ground, clutching a small child to her chest, sobbing into her hair. The party looked at each other awkwardly until Nyviel nudged Renya. The Warden walked over and knelt next to her. She put her hand on Leliana’s back.

“Lelia…?”

“No… _no_ …”

_The little girl giggled. Sister Leliana pressed her finger to her lips as she walked over to where the little girl was kneeling. She crouched down beside her, making sure she was hidden by the bales of hay the girl had chosen to hide behind._

_“Now we wait,” the sister said mischievously. They hid quietly together, both stifling giggles. Soon, the door to the Chantry began to creak open. Both the little girl and the lay sister watched with baited breath as the door slowly swung open. The bucket Sister Leliana had fastened above the door began to tip, slowly, slowly, until a deluge of water splashed all over stern Sister Ulivia. The little girl squeaked with laughter, and Sister Leliana covered her mouth to stifle her own chuckles._

_Sister Ulivia was not amused. “Who did this?” she shrieked. “You, Ser Bryant. You have been here the whole time. Who has done this?”_

_The templar she addressed turned toward her, his helmet concealing his face completely. “I don’t know, Sister. I have seen nothing.”_

_At that, Sister Leliana appeared, full of concern for Ulivia. “Maker, what happened to you, Sister?” she asked with mock surprise. She suppressed a smile as the little girl doubled over with silent laughter, her hand clamped over her mouth._

_Ulivia glared at her. “You mean the Maker hasn’t told you?” she said nastily. “He didn’t reveal divine knowledge to you in a daydream?”_

_“I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about, Sister,” Leliana replied kindly. Ulivia grumbled, and Leliana continued to survey her placidly. Leliana had been enduring verbal jabs about her vision for quite some time, and now a harmless prank to make a little girl feel better suddenly made Leliana feel better, too._

_“Sister Leliana likes her fun, Sister Ulivia. Calm yourself,” the Revered Mother said, slipping out the door and being careful to not move it further until the bucket was removed. She looked at Leliana with a small shake of her head, but she didn’t look too angry. Ulivia could be difficult toward all, and a soaking was the least of what some wished upon her. A small smile creeped onto Leliana’s face and she bowed her head._

_“Now, Sister, let’s get you dried off,” the Mother continued, staring pleasantly at the dripping woman. “I’m sure Sister Leliana has other business to attend to, don’t you, Sister?”_

_“I’m sure…” muttered Ulivia. Leliana kept her head bowed._

_“Yes, Mother. I was about to walk Jenette home.”_

_“Do, and hurry back. We need your voice for the evening prayers.” She hurried Ulivia away. “And do pray for forgiveness when you return, Sister,” she murmured over her shoulder once Ulivia was inside again._

_Leliana couldn’t suppress her grin. “Yes, Mother.”_

_The Chantry door closed and Leliana looked at Ser Bryant. His shoulders shook a little as he chuckled. “That was a good one, Sister.”_

_“Thank you. And thank you for not telling her…”_

_The templar shook his head. “She yelled at me this morning for my armor being too polished. Yesterday she told me it wasn’t polished enough and I was giving the wrong impression of the Chantry. It’s just luck I happened to turn away when you came around the corner with that little girl.” Leliana imagined the man smiling under his helmet._

_Little Jenette ran up to Leliana and grabbed her hand, jumping up and down. “We did it, Sister Leliana! That was so much fun!”_

_Leliana looked down at her and smiled. “Yes, but hurry. We need to get you home before supper. Come,” she insisted when the girl groaned with disappointment. “And I will tell you the story of Andraste and Shartan the elf…”_

“No…” Leliana sobbed, running her fingers through the little girl’s hair. Her body was cold and limp, but the bard clutched her to herself, as if wishing to transfer her warmth into the small body and wake it up. “Why didn’t you leave?” she choked out. “Why didn’t your parents take you to safety?”

Leliana bowed her head again. The girl’s parents were poor; they were probably not able to pay for space on a wagon. Why hadn’t they run, then? Perhaps they thought they would be able to survive the horde, protected by the templar. Vaguely she was aware of Renya’s hand on her back.

“Search for survivors,” she heard the elf say sharply.

“There are none,” Morrigan replied.

“Search anyway.”

Shuffling as the little party disbanded, some with more grumbling than others.

“Come, Lelia…” Renya said quietly. “It is over.”

Leliana shook her head. Her gaze went to where the Chantry building once stood. It was reduced to its stone foundation and ash. Her breath caught. In the garden, an old rosebush stood, burned and dead, the wisps of charred roses clinging to the blackened branches. Was that all that remained of the inviting building that had accepted her, worn and weary, into its folds?

“Maker…”

“Whoa, easy,” Renya said as Leliana put the little girl down and swayed where she knelt. She grabbed Leliana’s shoulder to steady her.

“You… we shouldn’t have come,” Leliana said, her eyes wide and staring. “You never should have come. I… I should have stayed here. I ran. That is what I did. I ran from Lothering.”

“Nae. No, you did not.”

“I did. You ran toward the Blight, and I ran away from it.”

“Leliana, you are not running away from the Blight. Look at all the darkspawn that we just fought our way through. Creators, you are traveling with Grey Wardens…”

Leliana took a shuddering breath. “But… in my dream I fell… All the darkness…” she ended in a whisper. It had consumed her.

“And I caught you,” Renya murmured back. “It is okay.”

But Leliana pulled away at her words. “No,” she said, shaking her head and rising. “It’s… no.”

She could not do this; how could she ever stand by Renya’s side, knowing that she had abandoned the very town that had saved her and offered her refuge for years? She didn’t deserve another chance. The other townsfolk hadn’t been granted that mercy, and the Maker knew she was not more deserving than they.

“Leliana…”

The bard backed away from Renya. No, she could not be with this elf, the elf that ran toward the danger, the elf that defended the weak. Not when she had only ever thought of herself. Her vision, her past, her broken heart. Was that all she ever thought about? Was vanity truly her downfall, as the Guardian had challenged? How starkly different from the elf, who time and time again gave of herself to others, no matter how weary. She didn’t deserve her.

“There’s no one here,” Alistair said sadly, walking up to them and jarring Leliana from her thoughts.

Renya nodded. “Should we look for the man who brought us here?”

“I… I found him,” Nyviel said in a small voice. “There are… no survivors.”

“He should not have forged ahead so,” Morrigan commented with a shake of her head.

Alistair sighed, looking around at the ruined town, still smoking.

“Let’s burn the bodies, and then leave,” he said quietly. “There is nothing else we can do for Lothering.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh. I always wondered what would happen if you returned to Lothering in game... Poor Leliana...
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	76. Opportunity

The next two days passed quietly as they trekked north, out of the lands fallen to the Blight. One evening, Renya was sitting meditating late into the night when footsteps caught her attention. It was Leliana on watch. Renya followed the bard’s path with her eyes as she walked around the camp, arms crossed in front of herself. Her eyes narrowed; it wasn’t really like Leliana to not stop and say hello when on watch, especially since they finally agreed they wanted to be “more than friends.”

She hopped up from the ground, told Elgar to stay, and walked over to where Leliana was now standing, trying to make noise so she wouldn’t startle the human. Apparently it worked, because Leliana turned as Renya approached. Renya hesitated. Leliana didn’t smile, only nodded and went back to staring in the direction from where they had come that afternoon.

“Hello, Leliana.”

“Hello.”

Silence fell between them. Renya noticed Leliana shivering.

“Are you cold?” she asked, stepping closer. Leliana shrugged but didn’t say anything. “May I stand watch with you?” she tried, putting her hands on Leliana’s shoulders and pressing into the bard’s back, trying to warm her a little. Leliana pulled away. Renya looked at her.

“Have I upset you?”

Leliana shook her head. “No.”

“Are you still upset about Lothering?”

“You are not?”

Renya sighed. “Of course I am. But it was your home. I just wanted to know if-”

“Did you know that I began following Marjolaine when I was sixteen?”

Renya’s eyebrows twitched into a small frown. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes,” Leliana said, tightening her grip on herself. “I earned her respect when I was able to learn the bardic arts so quickly. I was her favorite.”

“Of course you were.”

“We… became lovers two years later.”

“…alright.”

“But I was not ever exclusively hers. She only asked for my loyalty to be hers alone, not my body.”

Renya shook her head, confused. Leliana was shivering again, but Renya hesitated to reach for her.

“It is a… pleasurable life, being a bard,” Leliana continued, hating that she was divulging this horrible, _dirty_ part of her past in such a callous manner to the elf she wished so badly would stop her from speaking. “Men and women alike are often easy to direct, given the right circumstances.”

“…right. Okay.”

Leliana ignored the lump in her throat and the flutter of her heart as Renya continued to simply accept the things that she was saying. She was apparently committed to making their - somewhat rocky - relationship work. Leliana swallowed.

“I miss it,” she heard herself say.

“Do you?” Renya’s voice was soft.

_No, Maker. I don’t. The dizzying, buzzing moments were grand, but I do not miss it. I want a home, and more importantly someone I can come home to._

“I do,” Leliana said with a small shrug.

“You… miss laying with… many people?” Renya sounded confused.

Leliana took a deep breath. Perhaps this subject bothered Renya more than she was letting on.

“Yes,” she replied, hating herself.

“It was… meaningless to you?”

“…yes, for the most part.”

“…oh.”

Another silence fell between them.

“Does this disgust you?” Leliana asked some time later.

“How am I to know what the life of a human bard is supposed to be like?” Renya replied.

“It disgusts you.”

“ _You_ do not disgust me, if that is what you are asking.”

“I should.”

“Lelia…” Renya murmured, taking Leliana’s arms and gently guiding her into a hug. It lasted only a moment before Leliana pulled away, hating the feeling of Renya’s arms disappearing.

“Why are you saying these things to me?” the elf asked seriously.

“Because you should know me for who I am.”

Renya shook her head. “You are still upset about Lothering. But there is nothing you could have done. The Revered Mother herself was not able to save the town, all those templar… what would one more Shantri sister have been able to do?”

“I wasn’t talking about Lothering,” Leliana snipped, looking away. “I was telling you about my life as a bard.” Her mind flitted to all the things Renya listed as things she thought Leliana “deserved” to be given.

“It was lovely, with fine furniture and clothing, warm beds, the sounds of the city comforting and familiar… all things I miss. Even then, I liked the sounds of the Chant sung from the great cathedral at Val Royeaux. It was comforting, listening to the blessed words of Andraste.”

She could hardly believe what she was doing, subtly listing things that she thought would push Renya away. It was hard to tell if it was working or not.

The elf shook her head again, not really sure what Leliana was trying to accomplish with this conversation.

“That is… what you wish for?” Renya asked slowly.

“Yes.”

Renya nodded, her heart heavy and her mind torn between thoughts of returning to her clan and thoughts of how to manage giving Leliana fine clothing and a bed in a house like humans had.

“I… do not know how I can give you these things,” she began honestly. “But-”

“You can’t.”

A heavy silence fell. Leliana carefully looked away from Renya, her heart feeling like it would burst from her chest. Renya had presented the perfect opportunity, and Leliana had taken it. The elf looked like she had been slapped.

“Ir… ir abelas, ma vhenan…” she murmured. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against Leliana’s cheek. The bard pulled away and gave the elf a little push.

“I will…” Renya’s voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I will leave you to your watch, then.”

When Leliana didn’t respond, she sighed and returned to her bedroll, not noticing the tears start to trickle down Leliana’s cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh. But Renya showed some insight again, so.... baby steps, right?
> 
> Also... Sorry, guys. I'm going to let the cat out of the bag: I've been having some real issues with depression recently and thus I've fallen off the internet planet a bit. I realized prior to chapter 75 it was over a week since I posted, but it just seemed like so much work to go through and format it on top of, you know, still being a functioning adult, and (blah blah blah whine whine whine) so I'm trying to get a bunch of chapters up before I get hit with another wave.
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us and access extra video-game related thoughts [here](https://www.patreon.com/AmbiGamingCorner) if you're really feeling generous!


	77. Conversations

Alistair grabbed Renya’s shoulder the next day as they were packing up camp. “So I’ve been talking to that Bodahn,” he said. “And he seems to think there are some opportunities in Denerim that would be very beneficial for Grey Wardens.” He shrugged. “Maybe before we go to collect the next treaty, we can stop by Denerim? It’s only a few days away, if we press ourselves.”

“Oh. Fantastic,” Renya said, secretly glad to have a real excuse to go to Denerim. She was torn between wanting to help Leliana and wanting to stay as far away from her past as possible. Now she would not be faced with that decision until they were again in the capital.

“Back to Denerim?” Zevran asked. “Did I hear rightly? Wonderful!” For some reason he did not look as enthusiastic as he sounded. He leaned in close to Renya. “There are… some Antivan Crows who generally lurk in Denerim. I would be very much obliged if, should the occasion arise…”

“Of course, Zevran,” Renya said. “Why didn’t you mention this last time?”

“You had just spared my life. I didn’t think you would care to vouch for someone you hardly knew,” he said with a shrug.

“I see. Well, we may be there for a few days, so I’m glad you told me of this now, rather than after I have a blade against my throat.”

They began walking.

“My dear Warden, I would never allow such a thing! My life continues to be yours,” he said. “And I would personally see that you survive this venture. After all, the Grey Wardens are needed to end the Blight. I, sadly, am not.”

“No one is going to die when we’re in Denerim,” Renya said flatly. “Don’t worry.”

***

The next day, Alistair found himself walking next to Sten.

“So… were you really locked up in that cage for twenty days?”

The qunari continued staring straight ahead. “It may have been more like thirty. I stopped counting after a while.”

“What did you do?” Alistair asked. “Twenty days is a long time.”

Sten looked down at the man next to him. “On good days, I posed riddles to passers-by, offering them treasures for the correct answers.”

“Really?”

“No.”

Renya snorted a laugh.

“That is nothing,” Shale countered from behind them. “I watched those humans in Honnleath for decades, unable to move or speak…”

“Oh, you poor dear!” Leliana said, all sympathy, reaching out to touch Shale’s arm. They were both walking at the back of the group. She thought better of it when she saw the golem’s glare. “That sounds…” She made a face. “Really, really boring.”

“You have no idea.”

Renya looked at Nyviel. “I lived in a forest for twenty-six years,” she said quietly. She shrugged. “I liked it a lot.” She grinned as Nyviel chuckled and shook her head.

“Such was my upbringing as well,” Morrigan said wistfully. “Away from the ridiculousness of humans…”

The Warden grinned. “I agree with you, lethallan. At least no one has tried to shake my hand recently.”

Morrigan coughed to suppress a chuckle. “Indeed.”

***

Nyviel watched as Renya and Leliana sat on opposite sides of the campfire not looking at each other. She had tried to ask Renya why the two of them had been walking so far apart, and why Leliana looked so sad, and why Renya looked like she wanted to stab something, but each time she had tried, Renya had abruptly changed the subject or found a “secret Grey Warden” reason to talk to Alistair.

She sighed, watching the two take turns glancing over the fire and ignoring said glances. It was ridiculous, the way Leliana continued to treat Renya, Nyviel thought. The elf obviously cared for her, but the bard seemed intent on stringing Renya along; she thought they had gotten past that at Haven, but apparently not.

Renya finished her meal and Nyviel deliberately took the bowl from her.

“Do you want more?” she asked pointedly, noticing Leliana look up with a rather sour expression.

Renya smiled. “Vin, yes, please, but I can get it myself, lethallan.”

“It’s no trouble,” she said, pretending to not see Leliana’s jaw tighten before she forced herself to look back down at her own meal.

“Ma serannas,” Renya said as she took the bowl from Nyviel. “It seems no one wishes for me to refill my own plate.”

As Renya began eating again, chatting with Zevran, Nyviel shot another look across the fire to where Leliana had watched the exchange from the tops of her eyes. She caught Nyviel staring and returned to her meal with a soft huff.

Nyviel sighed again. It was going to be a long trip to Denerim.

***

Denerim loomed in front of them as they made camp a few days later. They decided to camp one more night to avoid any incidents at the inns.

“You know,” Leliana commented thoughtfully as they ate. “You are very beautiful, Morrigan.”

The apostate smiled with a shrug. “Tell me something I do not know.”

“But you always dress in such rags,” the bard continued, indicating the material barely covering Morrigan’s breasts. “It suits you, I suppose,” she added thoughfully. “A little tear here, a little rip there to show some skin. I understand.”

Morrigan finally looked at her, disbelief on her face. “You understand I lived in a forest, I hope?”

But Leliana was determined. “Maybe we could get you in a nice dress one day. Silk…” She frowned. “No, maybe velvet. Velvet is heavier, better to guard against the cold in Ferelden…”

Morrigan raised her eyebrows and looked at Renya, who was wearing a similar incredulous look as she stared at Leliana. The Warden caught Morrigan’s gaze and shrugged.

“Dark red velvet, yes,” Leliana said, nodding as she appraised Morrigan’s figure. “With gold embroidery. And it should be cut low in the front, of course!” she added. “We don’t want to hide your features.”

Morrigan choked on her food. “Stop looking at my breasts like that. ‘Tis most disturbing!”

“You don’t think so?” Leliana said smoothly. “And if it’s cut low in the front, we must put your hair up to show off that lovely neck…”

But the apostate was shaking her head, ignoring the grins pointed at her. “You are insane,” she said sharply, but, unless Renya was mistaken, she looked pleased at Leliana’s words. Morrigan glared at the bard over the tops of her eyes. “I would sooner let Alistair dress me.”

“Oh?” chimed Alistair with a wicked grin.

“It’ll be fun, I promise!” Leliana insisted, undaunted. “We’ll get some shoes, too! Ah, shoes! We could go shopping together, once we are in Denerim again!”

“Warden…”

“What? I think you would look nice,” Renya said with a grin as Morrigan shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“You are not helping me.”

“I happen to think you are very attractive, Morrigan. You would look very nice,” the elf replied politely. “Don’t you think so, Alistair?”

The other Warden blushed. “Yes, sure,” he grunted, spooning stew into his mouth.

“Well, I-”

“Beautiful women deserve beautiful clothing, Morrigan,” Nyviel agreed, cutting off the apostate’s protest.

“Ah, yes,” Zevran chimed in winningly. “You would be the envy of any woman alive, my dear!”

Renya watched as Morrigan smiled into her meal, obviously pleased with how the conversation had turned out while hating that she was enjoying herself. She saw Leliana trying to catch her eye but continued her meal as if she hadn’t noticed.

***

“I am… sorry, Renya.”

Renya turned from where she had paused to listen to the sounds of the forest.

“Leliana?”

“I’m sorry.”

The elf sighed but didn’t say anything.

“I… I don’t know what came over me.” It was a lie, and they both knew it.

“Mhm.”

“It was… difficult to see Lothering like that,” Leliana admitted quietly. “That was the place that kept me safe. It… it was the first place I had truly called home since I left Lady Cecile’s.”

“Mhm,” Renya grunted again.

“It’s… y-you don’t really know me, Renya,” the bard whispered sadly. “The-the things Marjolaine did… the things _I_ did…”

“Have I ever asked?”

“No,” Leliana admitted.

“Do you lie to me?”

“No,” Leliana said earnestly. “No, I do not.”

“That is all I want to know.”

A short silence fell.

“You… you can’t imagine what it was like, living with Marjolaine. She was… wonderful. Beautiful and talented and intelligent…”

Renya sighed. Finally she turned and faced Leliana.

“And then she had you imprisoned. Used you. I know these things.” She paused. “I have seen how it has affected you.”

Leliana was about to disagree when Renya took a step toward her.

“I saw your nightmare, after all.”

Leliana swallowed. _I am broken… I am unworthy of love…_

Renya continued. “And I have… _noticed_ how you treat me, good and bad. I am not so oblivious and naïve as you seem to think.”

Leliana stood quietly, unsure what to say.

“I do not ask much from you, Leliana,” Renya said softly. She sighed. “There was once a Dalish hunter who was in the forest alone, having been granted permission to fell a tree to build an aravel for himself and his bonded,” she began, starting to walk around the camp again. Leliana followed her silently.

“He became weary, and as he chopped the wood, he eventually dropped his ax into a nearby stream. June, the god of crafting, appeared and, upon hearing the hunter’s trouble, dove into the stream. When he rose from the water, he presented the hunter an ax with a handle of vehnadahl wood, but the hunter said that was not his ax. A second time June dove into the water, and then presented the hunter with an ax with a handle of ironbark. Again, the hunter denied it was his. The third time, June presented the hunter with an ax of simple elm. The hunter took back his ax thankfully. But June, impressed with the hunter’s honesty, presented the hunter with the two other axes as gifts.”

Leliana listened to the story as they continued to walk around camp, letting the Dalish accent wash over her. Renya rarely spoke so much at once. Leliana allowed herself a small smile. _Unless she was telling an old Elvhen story,_ she corrected herself.

“Another hunter, jealous of the first’s good fortune, decided to go into the forest to try his own luck. He began to chop a tree, and planned so his ax would fall into the water. Again, June appeared and dove into the stream. Upon presenting the hunter with the vhenadahl ax, the hunter reached for it, crying, ‘Yes, this is mine! It is mine!’”

Renya shook her head. “June was so disgusted with the hunter’s dishonesty that he not only took back the fine vhenadahl ax, but also refused to retrieve the hunter’s original ax. And so the hunter returned to his clan without his ax and disgraced by the gods themselves.”

She fell silent. Leliana glanced at her.

“That is a very nice story,” she said.

The elf arched an eyebrow. “That is all you take from it?”

“What else…?” Leliana trailed off. “Honesty,” she murmured. “Something the Dalish value a great deal…”

“That is all I want,” Renya replied softly. They were back at the camp and Renya was about to wake Morrigan. She reached out to grab Leliana’s shoulder, then checked herself, patting it once instead. “Goodnight, Lelia.”

She turned and left Leliana standing alone by her tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little reminder that "June" is pronounced "YOO-neh," because I'm a nerd. Also... what do you think of Renya's story? Do you recognize it? 
> 
> And I modified the conversation when Zevran compliments Morrigan, because he ultimately insults her in the game, but I liked the idea of him enjoying making her uncomfortable, rather than actively trying to make her feel bad.
> 
> On a different note, does it make sense when I jump from heavy conversations/events to these types of lighter conversations (at the beginning of the chapter)? I mean, time marches on, and everyone in the group isn't always involved in each others' personal dramas and I'm trying to capture that, but if it's too jarring I'll have to work on my transitions a little bit more.
> 
> Also also, you might think that Nyviel's assessment of the situation is unfair, since Renya hasn't exactly been innocent in all of this relationship drama... While Nyviel is pretty good at interpreting Renya's thoughts, she definitely favors Renya during these circumstances. Again, if that doesn't come across I'll try to make it clearer.
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us and access extra video-game related thoughts [here](https://www.patreon.com/AmbiGamingCorner) if you're really feeling generous!


	78. Looking Forward and Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning*  
> Graphic depictions of violence ahead

“So,” Alistair said the next morning. “Denerim tomorrow. It will be nice to be back in the city.”

Renya gave him a half-smile. “I suppose so, lethallin.”

“That’s right. I forgot. You didn’t like it there.”

“It is so big,” Renya said in wonder. “And there aren’t any trees. I have never seen so many humans in one place, either.”

Leliana couldn’t help but smile as she listened to Renya describe the city. As the two Wardens spoke, she felt her heart grow heavy with dread at the thought of the coming foray into Ferelden’s capitol. Marjolaine was there. What would happen if Renya decided they didn’t have time to seek her out? Or, worse, decided she didn’t _want_ to seek her out?

_But this has to end,_ Leliana reasoned. It was affecting the Wardens’ quest, too. Wasn’t it? She assumed that having a bardmaster and her assassin following them, no matter how ridiculous the reason, was enough to cause the Wardens pause. Without realizing what she was doing, she began to think of a way to convince Renya it would be for the best to seek out Marjolaine before they did anything else in the capitol.

Instantly she felt bad. No, she would not try to convince Renya of anything, she thought firmly. She would ask, and then if Renya said no, she would respect that, and sort out Marjolaine on her own. Yes, that was what she was going to do.

_I will not manipulate you,_ she promised the elf silently. _I never will._

***

_It was dark. Very dark. The only light in the room was from a drain in the ceiling. Her heart began racing. She had heard the stories, and she was not stupid: the underground cells, the damp walls, the muffled screams… She shook her head, trying to dispel that thought._

_Her hands were tied above her head and she was standing in common clothing, her armor taken away presumably after one of the guards had knocked her unconscious. A loud boom, followed by creaking, made her jump, her chains jingling. A man was standing in front of her, surveying her carefully. With an unpleasant jolt, she realized this was the man Marjolaine had slept with…_

_Her words echoed in Leliana’s head: “I chose a small fight to save you a larger one, my pet…”_

_Another man entered the cell carrying what looked like a card table and placed it in front of the the helpless woman. The man left, leaving the guard and his prisoner alone. The guard considered her, slowly placing the bag on the table while maintaining the woman’s gaze. One by one he removed the contents of the case and placed them on the table. Leliana’s blood ran cold. Small knives, a cat-o-nine, and other devices that she had never seen before were laid out lovingly on the table in front of her._

_She started to pray, not sure she believed anyone was listening._ Maker, preserve me…

_“Liars never prosper, ‘pretty thing’.” The guard picked up a knife and studied it carefully. Leliana studied the knife with him. He brandished it a little._

_“I… you are right. I will tell you,” she tried, knowing she had no information to give him._

_She shuddered. The guard had brought the knife to her neck and was now meticulously cutting off her tunic. This was not something she had expected when she first began following Marjolaine._

_“I… I will do anything,” Leliana said desperately. “I could make it… make it worth your while.” She shuddered inwardly at the thought. The thin material covering her fell away and the guard laughed._

_“I’m sure. And you will.”_

_The first cut was so quick Leliana only managed to gasp before it was over. The guard twitched an eyebrow at her. “I think we can do better than that. Sing for me,” he growled at her._

_She wasn’t sure how long she screamed and struggled against her bonds. A voice somewhere outside the cell was calling her name over and over. But it was no use; no one would save her. Who would risk such a rescue? They would be chained up next to her and similarly tormented._

_Finally the man tired of his game and left her crying alone in her cell, still dangling from the ceiling. Eventually her sobs melted away as she listened to a voice outside murmur to her in a strange language, her name often spoken gently. In this darkness, Leliana told herself, she would find solace in anything she could, even in something as disappointing as an illusion._

***

“Leliana,” Renya murmured, having been pulled, again, into Leliana’s tent by Nyviel. “Leliana, it is alright…”

The bard thrashed around in her sleep, small, pain-filled sounds escaping her.

“Non… sil vous plait… Please, stop…”

“Melava somniar, Leliana… Tel’enfenim. Ara ma’athlan vhenas…” The elf stroked her hair soothingly.

Renya watched as Leliana’s breathing slowly returned to normal and her face relaxed, until she began sleeping peacefully again. Once she was satisfied that Leliana was no longer having a nightmare, she nodded and rose as much as she could within the tent, before turning to leave.

“Aren’t you going to stay?” Nyviel asked with some disbelief.

“Nae. No,” Renya said shortly. She sighed. “I will listen so you can sleep. Sleep well, Nyviel.” She left the tent, ignoring Nyviel as she shook her head. Her expression turned into a sigh as she saw the dark outline of Renya sit down in front of the tent flap.

“Ma nuvenin,” Nyviel murmured. “Goodnight.” She lay down on the bedroll, watching Leliana breathe.

She woke up to the sound of Leliana rummaging in her pack, the beginnings of the dawn leaking through the flap in the tent. For an instant, she thought she saw Renya’s shadow still sitting guard outside the tent, but as Leliana turned to leave, the shadow disappeared before the bard could notice it had ever been there.

“Ma nuvenin,” Nyviel whispered to herself as Leliana left the tent.

***

“Ah, Denerim,” Leliana said when they had entered the gates. She looked at Renya shyly. “If we have time, I would like to look up Marjolaine, see if she is still here…”

“…Of course,” Renya replied after a moment’s hesitation. Leliana tried not to feel guilty when she saw Nyviel staring at her.

“Why don’t we split up?” the Warden suggested now. “Alistair, maybe you can look into the opportunities Bodahn was talking about? We can meet for the midday meal,” Renya said, glancing at the clock. That would give them close to an hour, if she remembered what Nyviel had told her about reading clocks.

“Right,” Alistair said, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. And with that he marched off. Renya sighed and nodded at some of the group. Zevran, Wynne, Morrigan, and Sten followed the Warden.

“Alistair!” Wynne called kindly. The other Warden stopped and turned around. When he realized what he had done, he sighed and dug the toe of his boot into the ground, shaking his head.

Renya, Leliana, Nyviel, and Shale worked their way around the market – Elgar snuffling the ground happily – and Renya was unable to keep her eyes off the crowds. It was still unbelievable just how many people could exist in one place. And how few trees there could be.

“This is it,” Leliana said softly, stopping outside of an unassuming doorway.

***

Leliana couldn’t believe what she was doing. Marjolaine could be cruel, and often was if it suited her purpose. Yet here Leliana was, walking into her house with two innocent elves, pretending to be optimistic that it would all work out.

She glanced at Renya, who was petting Elgar and murmuring to him in Dalish. The dog looked disappointed but woofed and sat down next to the door. It would be terrible if Marjolaine suspected that Leliana had feelings for the elf. She would twist the situation around, tell Renya all the terrible things Leliana had done as a bard, and watch with relish as Renya’s trust shattered, before killing her. And Leliana would be forced to watch all of it. Marjolaine had, after all, sent an assassin after Renya in the hopes of using her severed ear to torment Leliana.

And what of Nyviel? The poor young elf was moderately distrustful of Leliana – her mood eerily acted as a gauge for Renya’s – but she was loyal to the bard in the same honest way Renya was. It wasn’t fair that she was swept into this. If either of them were hurt, it would be Leliana’s fault.

Her gaze fell on Renya again, now turning to the golem. It would be okay, she told herself. Renya had promised to keep her safe. Her Warden would – _No,_ she thought sharply to herself, pushing those thoughts away as quickly as she could. To think those thoughts would make them real, and if her feelings were real then they could be shattered. Again.  
  
Leliana took a deep breath. _The_ Grey Warden was here. Everything would be okay. It would.

Wouldn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Renya's still not really on board with Leliana, and Marjolaine is on the other side of the door.  
> Tune in next time.
> 
> Translation:  
> Melava somniar, Leliana… Tel’enfenim. Ara ma’athlan vhenas - an approximation of "Sleep easily. Don't be afraid. Let my voice guide you home." Basically she's trying to soothe Leliana and/or wake her up.
> 
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	79. Light in the Shadows

Renya’s voice roused Leliana from her thoughts.

“Shale, will you stay out here and make sure no one takes us by surprise?”

“I will do what it asks. I will not, however, be pleased if a bird passes by…”

“…okay.”

With a glance at Leliana, Renya knocked smartly on the door.

“You knocked?” Leliana asked flatly.

“Yes,” Renya said with a frown. “Elves consider it rude to enter someone’s aravel without knocking first… Is this different among humans?”

“No, it’s just…” Leliana sighed. “Nevermind.”

The door swung open to reveal a large foyer. Renya stepped through the door quickly, followed by Leliana and Nyviel. As soon as the mage closed the door, two very large men appeared seemingly out of nowhere and attacked them. They soon lay dead on the floor. Renya’s heart was racing.

“Any other secrets about this place I should know about?” she asked Leliana hoarsely. The bard pointed.

“Trip-wire,” she whispered, already feeling guilty. She knelt and brushed her fingers along the floor until she found the wire, no thicker than a spider’s silk. She couldn’t suppress her smile; Marjolaine had set it so her victim would not even know they had triggered a trap before it was much too late. She was always clever like that. _Clever and underhanded,_ she corrected, her smile fading. Her fingers danced along the floor and found another wire.

“She must have a grand time coming home,” Nyviel whispered with wide eyes, watching Leliana work. Two more wires and one pressure-plate later, Leliana stood.

They walked into the next room.

A well-dressed Orlesian lady with black hair and dark eyes greeted them.

“Bonjour,” she said easily. It was as if she was not surprised to find two elves and a former associate standing in her house after killing two of her employees and disarming her traps.

“Hello,” Renya replied politely, repeating a human greeting she had heard.

“May I offer you something to drink?” the woman asked, indicating a bottle of wine on the small table next to her. Renya tilted her head slightly. The Dalish considered it very rude to not accept an offering of food or wine when in another’s aravel, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to accept a drink from a bardmaster who had sent an assassin to kill her.

“No, thank you, Marjolaine,” Leliana replied coldly, saving Renya from having to respond.

“Ah, Leliana,” Marjolaine said smoothly, pouring herself a glass of deep red wine and taking a sip. “I was wondering if you would speak to me. I apologize for the accomodations. I try to be a good host, but you see what I have to work with. Ferelden smells like wet dog!” She laughed, and Renya stiffened at the sound. For a moment, it had sounded like Leliana’s.

“Why did you send an assassin after Leliana?” Renya asked.

“Your companion is so businesslike,” Marjolaine said, glancing the elf up and down. “To answer you, I know what she is capable of. Four or five men? She would have no trouble with them, and they would give her cause to come to me. And you are here.”

Renya arched an eyebrow. “You could have just sent a… a letter,” she said, hoping she remembered the name of the written notes Nyviel said humans sent to each other. She had a feeling her words hadn't sounded as clever as she had wanted them to.

But Marjolaine smiled lightly. “The written word has some terrible memories for both of us,” she said, glancing at at Leliana.

“ _Both_ of us?” Leliana echoed, hating that Marjolaine was able to get into her head so easily.

“I see you still have that armor. And repaired, too!” Marjolaine smiled at the redhead, changing the subject. “I am glad. It looks as good as ever on you, pretty thing.”

“Well, time does heal all wounds, does it not?” Leliana replied with forced calm, failing to ignore the unsolicited compliment as her heart jumped a little.

“Does it, indeed?” Marjolaine said with interest. Her eyes swept down Leliana’s figure, and Renya tried to keep her lip from curling. “And all scars, too, you would say?”

“They are just colors in the painting of my life.”

“Ah. You are still able to weave your words so skillfully, my pretty thing.”

Leliana tensed. “Why are you here, Marjolaine?” she asked. But her tone had completely lost the coldness it had held. It was now imploring. Renya’s heart beat a little harder and she warded off an angry jaw-clench.

“Did you think I would not watch my pretty Leliana?” the bardmaster replied with a shrug. “I knew Dorothea moved you to Lothering, and after you settled there, it seemed that you would no longer be a trouble to me, my pet. No letters were sent, no messages. You barely spoke to anyone.”

“Because I wasn’t-!”

“Clever, Leliana. Very clever. You almost had me fooled. But then…” Marjolaine shook her head like a parent scolding a child. “You left. How was I to know what your plans were? You have information you could use against me. We both know this. So I had you followed.”

“That was a long time ago, Marjolaine. I left that life behind. Why would you hunt me now?” Leliana asked, hating that she was still pleading with this woman the way she had so long ago, on the cliffs of some unknown river in northern Ferelden.

Marjolaine chuckled and took another sip of wine. “I thought to myself, this is not Leliana: quiet in the Chantry, plain clothes, life of servitude…” She raised an eyebrow. “Hair cut short, like a boy. No, this is not her. She must be up to something. And you were.”

“I am not seeking revenge on you! You are insane. Paranoid.”

“Then why come? Why did you kill my guards and enter my house?”

“For answers, Marjolaine! Why-”

“We knocked,” Nyveil offered quietly. “And the door opened…” No one seemed to hear her.

“You sent your little canary after me,” Renya cut in darkly. “She almost killed me, after accusing me of stealing your nightingale…”

Marjolaine laughed. “Stealing? But yes, you have. I showed her-” She nodded in Leliana’s general direction, “-what happens when one is weak. She sat, broken and harmless, in a small forgotten Chantry in the middle of Ferelden. My handiwork…” She smiled with relish, regarding Leliana fondly. “You always were mine, my pet… And as I recall, you loved my handiwork, once upon a time, no? Whatever happened, my Leliana? What part of you broke?”

Nyviel, standing behind Renya and Leliana, put her hand on the bard’s back gently. She felt her shaking.

_Broken…_

“And then you…” She turned her careless gaze onto Renya “…came along. My… canary, did you call her? Interesting. She found you, didn’t she? Yes, I see the scars… Unfortunate, really,” she added, appraising Renya. “Leliana chose you well. Such a fine young woman. Have you decided when you are going to bed her, pretty thing?” she added, turning back to Leliana. She laughed at Leliana’s expression. “I think she might be a little…rougher in ways you are not used to, my pet. Didn’t you used to comment how wild you thought the Dalish were?”

Renya arched an eyebrow and Leliana’s throat tightened.

“I didn’t mean…” she faltered. She cursed herself. She was losing her nerve, which meant she was going to lose ground. And losing ground meant losing much more than an argument. No, she would lose something much more important. She forced herself to not look at Renya.

“Or perhaps my eyes deceive me,” Marjolaine continued, her eyes falling onto Nyviel. “She seems much easier to win. But she offers you nothing. You chose wisely with that one, my pet,” she concluded with an approving nod at Renya. “I trained you well. See? Still mine.”

Renya stepped in front of Leliana.

“She is with me, now,” she growled. Marjolaine watched her with interest.

“She will use you, you know. You look at her and you see a simple girl. A friend, trusting and warm.” She glared at Leliana. “It is all an act. Leliana only cares for herself.”

Renya’s lips parted into a hint of a snarl.

“You realize she is a killer, and always will be?” the bardmaster continued, her eyes oddly bright as she saw the elf's demeanor change. “That is who she is. We are the same. Her past follows her; look at her armor. She had that when she worked for me. And her daggers? The same. She kept them all this time. Did she tell you of the men and women she manipulated? Of those that she used for her own gains?” Marjolaine smiled charmingly. “What of the toasts we shared for information stolen, targets assassinated, and men and women successfully seduced?”

“Marjolaine, I-”

“It is not a matter of if Leliana wants something from you,” the bardmaster said to Renya now. “No, it is a matter of what. So I wonder,” Marjolaine said, stepping forward and reaching toward Renya’s face. “What is it that she desires from you?”

Renya pulsed her jaw once as Marjolaine traced her fingers down her cheek. Her hands were soft, like Leliana’s. The elf clenched her teeth again.

“Don’t touch her,” Leliana growled. Marjolaine withdrew her hand comfortably.

“As you wish,” she said with indifference.

Leliana glared at the bardmaster. “We are different, Marjolaine. I do not want to be you. That is why I left. I wanted a new life.”

“Oh, is that what you have told yourself these past few years?” She looked at Renya. “She did not leave out of fear of becoming me. She left after escaping from prison.” Marjolaine smiled at Leliana. “You just wanted me to be safe, that is what you said. But behind your back was the dagger of evidence you could use against me. If you had trusted me and done your job, this would not have happened!”

“How could I ignore your treason?” Leliana demanded. “None of us would have been safe, least of all you!” She appealed to Renya. “I wanted her to take the documents back, I never would have used them to hurt her.”

Renya kept her face carefully blank. Two bards were trying to convince her they each were telling the truth; she had a headache. Marjolaine, however, seemed amused by Renya’s seeming lack of response and pressed her point.

“Did she tell you of the man so smitten with her, he asked for her hand in marriage? That man wound up imprisoned, his career ruined, because our client needed him locked away for a long time. But he loved her, so dearly. So tenderly. So _easily,_ do you remember?” she added treacherously, shifting her gaze onto Leliana. “Do you remember how proud you were? How happily you celebrated the job well done? Do you remember our own private celebration afterward, my pet?” The bardmaster smiled charmingly. “You kept those satin ribbons for the longest time, didn’t you? Forest green, no? Your favorite. Do you remember?”

“I see that you remember, too,” Leliana replied before she could stop herself. Why did she care if Marjolaine remembered? _Maker, do I still want to run back to Orlais with her? No._ She glanced over at Renya as she felt the pressure from Nyviel’s fingers increase, and bit back anything else she wanted to say. Any defense would sound hollow, she knew. Renya was standing stony-faced in front of the black-haired Orlesian.

“I am hurt,” Marjolaine replied easily. “You think I am so old I would forget that night? Of how nice you looked on my bed, arms high above your head? That green wouldn’t look good on just anyone, my pet… Oh,” she added to Renya, as if only remembering. “Has she told you that we were lovers?”

“Marjolaine. Stop.”

“Ah, she hasn’t…” Marjolaine stepped close to Renya and began speaking softly, her dark eyes boring into Renya’s green ones. “She hasn’t told you about the nights we spent together. She would tell story after story for me.” She smiled, like a cat smiles at a mouse. “I was such a good audience, don’t you remember, my pet? And I was always there to protect you…”

“You said you loved me…” Leliana whispered, her resolve cracking.

Marjolaine stared at her for a long moment with an unreadable expression. “I did say that,” she finally murmured. But then her eyes hardened. “I’ve said many things to many people.”

The bardmaster looked back at Renya, ignoring Leliana as she balled her hands into fists. “She hasn’t told you of our love, or how her long red hair danced like flames as it fanned out across my pillow? How her pale, soft skin glowed against the dark sheets? And how her back would arch… You must remember those nights, my Leliana…” she finished, turning her head toward the bard but keeping her eyes on Renya. “It was easy to see how she could convince men and women to fall in love with her. She was so attentive. So…enthusiastic,” Marjolaine continued smoothly.

Leliana’s throat constricted, feeling hurt and embarrassed as Marjolaine discussed her performance in bed. She felt Nyviel press her hand a little more firmly into her back. But Leliana’s eyes went, unbidden, to Renya.

“I am not sure what you are trying to accomplish. Yes, she has told me she was an Orlesian bard. Yes, she told me she loved you.”

 _Maker and Andraste bless her all her days,_ Leliana thought. Renya actually sounded bored, and wore a contemptuous look that Morrigan would have been proud of.

“And yes,” Renya finished with the hint of a snarl. “She told me what you had done to her.”

“She was a player of the Game, and a master at it,” Marjolaine retorted. “She wished for information against me-”

“There were Orlesian military seals!” Leliana spat back.

“She thought that sharing my bed meant ignoring our orders-”

“You slept with a man and then lied to me about it, and I still trusted you!”

“Ah, so you were jealous? You wished revenge?” Marjolaine asked with a calm smile. She took another drink of her wine.

“No!” Leliana said desperately. “I saw the seals and worried for you. I told you…”

“She needed to hide, she found the Chantry,” Marjolaine said with a shrug. “And then what happened, my Leliana? A Grey Warden came by and you saw an opportunity. But for what?” Her gaze fell on Renya again. “A Dalish elf. What were you thinking, Leliana? Something simple and wild to possess? To play with?”

A low growl escaped Renya.

“Or perhaps you have another great game in mind, and ensnared a warrior for your purposes.” Marjolaine tutted and shook her head. She made a disbelieving gesture and turned to Renya again. “And yet you trust her and allow her to travel with you! She and I are the same. I made her who she is, and she will never be able to turn away from that. She has gotten what she wants from you. She has dragged you here to confront me. Now, she will betray you, as she would have betrayed me.”

“I never-!”

“Do you see how she looks at me?” Marjolaine asked Leliana now. “Such distaste. This is how she will look at you, once she sees how you have used her. Who you truly are.”

“I’m not using her! You sent an assassin after her! After _me!_ What have I done to make you hate me so?” Leliana choked out. “I just wanted you safe. I never would have betrayed you…”

“Yet here you are, are you not?” Marjolaine looked bored. “What did it take?” She looked at Renya again, but her words were still meant for Leliana. “A few sweet kisses? Some well-chosen, softly-spoken words?”

“That is not-!”

“Her laugh is quite musical, no? So enchanting…”

“Why are you-?”

“Do you know why you were a master manipulator, Leliana?”

“Marjolaine…”

“It is because you _enjoyed_ the game. You reveled in the power that it gave you. You can neither change nor deny this.” She smiled again. “No one will ever understand you the way I do, my Leliana. No one knows you the way I do. No one has ever loved you the way I do.”

“I-I…” Leliana stammered. An uncomfortable silence fell. _Does she still love me?_

“And you?” Marjolaine offered, now staring at Renya. “You listen to her stories? And are enraptured by her voice? Did she tell you she loved you?” She smiled knowingly. “And now you protect her. See? She always gets what she wants. Well done, Leliana.” Marjolaine slowly clapped. “You have convinced a Grey Warden to be your champion.”

“I don’t need-!”

“I trust Leliana,” Renya interrupted, her eyes bright and her pulse pounding in her ears. Her words hung in the air. Leliana smiled with relief.

“Thank you,” she said softly. She would never be able to tell Renya how much those words meant to her.

“And so you are here, though you are a fool,” Marjolaine said with a shrug. “So what now? Will you demand I pay for my sins?”

Renya looked at Leliana, waiting for her response. This was her past, and Renya could not tell her what would be best.

“No, Marjolaine. I am not like you. I simply want you to leave Ferelden and never bother me or my friends again,” Leliana said with a shake of her head.

“I see,” Marjolaine said, her eyebrows arched. “I will go, for now. But you carry a dangerous secret of mine, Leliana. It is not over. Not for us.” She shook her head. “You know I will always be watching you.”

“Watch all you want. I do not want revenge. I have left that part of my life behind, and wish you would do the same.” The bard sighed. “I am not a threat to you,” she added softly. “I never was.”

Renya expected Marjolaine to show some sort of response, some remorse, but the look on the bardmaster’s face was calculating.

“I will leave for Orlais immediately, then,” Marjolaine finally said. “And will not return to Ferelden. But I will always be watching.”

Leliana watched Marjolaine carefully as she walked past them. The bardmaster moved as if to straighten her sleeves, and Leliana knew what she was going to do a moment before it happened. Her hand went to her dagger, but she was too late.

Marjolaine pulled a dagger from inside her sleeve and flew at Leliana. But Renya intercepted her even as Leliana dodged and drew her blade to strike back. In a flurry of movement that no one could clearly see, Renya and Marjolaine wound up lying on the ground. The elf was restraining Marjolaine’s arms above her head with one hand and pressing the bardmaster’s own knife to her throat with the other as she straddled her hips, pinning her to the floorboards. Marjolaine’s eyes were wide, but she smiled.

“Well?”

Renya didn’t move. “Well?” she echoed.

“What now?” Marjolaine asked Renya conversationally. “Will you kill for her?”

Renya leaned in; Marjolaine’s perfume stung her nose, like flowers used to mask a foul odor.

“If you ever hurt her again,” Renya growled. “However indirectly…” She took a breath through flared nostrils. “Yes.” She pressed the knife a little more firmly against Marjolaine’s throat. “Stay away from her, and stay away from my friends.”

“It’s always more fun when it’s personal, isn’t it?”

Renya pulsed her jaw a few times, before rocking onto her heels and standing up in one movement. “I would not know.”

Marjolaine stood. With one fluid motion, Renya spun and stabbed the bardmaster’s knife deep into the wooden doorframe.

“Now leave.”

The bardmaster surveyed her. “As you wish.” She glanced Leliana up and down one final time. “Au revoir, ma jolie fille.” As she passed, she tried to remove her blade from the wall, but it was stuck. Without looking at the other women, she paused and yanked at it twice, before shaking her head.

“Garde-le,” she said to Leliana with a smug grin. “En souvenir de moi.”

“It will stay here to rot,” Leliana spat back in the common tongue. Marjolaine laughed, but it wasn’t enough to conceal the odd look that passed over her features.

And with that, she left the house. The three women stood silently for a long time, Leliana staring at the blade in the doorframe and Renya glaring at the front door.

“She didn’t even want to take her things?” Nyviel finally asked in disbelief.

“She does not have any personal belongings,” Leliana said vaguely. “No objects with sentimental value…” She walked numbly into the side room, and Renya followed. They were now in a bedroom. “She’s gone. I don’t know what to think. She said it wasn’t over… No – she was lying. She won’t come back. I can’t believe it’s finally over,” she added weakly. She turned away from the elf and stood staring at the bed. “We… we will speak of this again, but I think I want to be alone for awhile…”

They left the house and saw Shale, who was speaking with a man in front of an anvil, and Elgar, contentedly chewing on a bone someone had given him. Nyviel, with a look at Renya, joined the golem, leaving the Warden and the bard alone. Leliana sighed.

“Come,” Renya said gruffly, grabbing Leliana’s upper arm and beginning to pull her down the street.

“Where are we going?”

Renya shook her head, leading her over to the Chantry building. “You are a sister of the Shantri. I figured you would want to pray,” she said stiffly when they arrived in front of the courtyard.

Leliana smiled before throwing her arms around Renya and hugging her, blinking back tears at the subtle, simple confirmation that Renya did not see her as the woman Marjolaine thought she was.

The elf startled, but then awkwardly hugged back, relaxing into it as Leliana continued to hold onto her. The bard let go first.

“Come with…” she faded as the words formed. Renya responded by walking over to the Chantry doors and pulling one open, indicating she should enter while pointedly ignoring the nearby templar carefully watching her from the door. Leliana walked in, pleasantly surprised when Renya followed her. The Revered Mother was conducting a service, and Leliana stayed in the back, kneeling and rocking along with the rest of the congregation. She couldn’t help but grin as Renya hovered in a dark corner nearby, arms crossed but a small, sad smile on her face as she watched Leliana pray.

As she stood in the shadows of the Chantry watching Leliana, Renya’s thoughts drifted to her clan and to Merrill. She was never going to see her again, she thought as if realizing it for the first time. Her Dalish life was over, and she was missing a ghost, a memory. She watched Leliana some more, noticing the peace that filled her face as the Chant surrounded them.

“Ir abelas, Merrill.” Her whisper joined the prayers of the faithful.

***

She thought she had slipped out without anyone noticing. Of course, elven eyes are difficult to deceive.

“Where are you going?” said a soft voice from a nearby sapling. Leliana jumped, not having noticed Renya follow her out of the Chantry amidst the horde of faithful entering and exiting the building.

“Nowhere,” Leliana said a little too quickly. A small eyebrow twitch was the only response she received. “I… I needed some air.”

“And you thought to leave me in the Shantri by myself?” Renya asked flatly. Leliana cringed internally. But Renya made a little head motion toward the gates, and Leliana followed like a reprimanded puppy. Renya noticed, but didn’t say anything. They left the main city and walked in silence for a while.

“What is it?” Renya finally asked, stopping and turning to face Leliana.

Leliana shook her head, looking away. Barely a moment had passed when she felt a calloused hand on her chin, gently guiding it up so they could look at each other again. The green eyes were watching her intently, brows furrowed with concern. Leliana swallowed, willing tears not to fall.

“Leliana,” Renya said gently. “What is it? You can tell me.”

Maker, why was she doing this? Why did she care so much? She deserved someone like her, not someone who was so shattered inside, filled with regrets and memories of seduction and deception. A calloused thumb rubbed her chin a little, the hand not releasing her, the eyes still boring into hers, the normally stoic face pinched with concern. Leliana blinked and felt a single tear fall. She went to wipe it away but Renya beat her to it.

“I can’t do this,” Leliana heard herself murmur, her heart pounding as she stared longingly into Renya’s eyes.

“Do what?”

Another tear fell, followed by another one.

“No,” Leliana murmured, pulling away. Two firm hands grabbed her arms, as if the elf were concerned Leliana would run away. The bard looked at Renya miserably. She wanted to be in those strong arms, Maker how she wanted that, feeling safe and warm. It had been the rare occasion when Renya had embraced her, but Leliana never wanted to let go when she did. It was a feeling she didn’t deserve, she knew.

Renya leaned forward and kissed Leliana’s cheek, as if to kiss away the remaining tear streaks.

“No,” she whispered again, shaking her head. Renya was so… _real,_ and honest, and did not work in shadows and deception. _Broken,_ she heard Marjolaine’s voice say in her head again.

“What is it?” Renya asked more urgently, leaning in. Leliana couldn’t look away.

“I’m scared.”

The words startled both women. For Leliana, it was an unexpected, yet still inadequate, admission; for Renya, looking at a human bard who worked for the Chantry, it was confusing. But it didn’t matter.

“You do not have to be scared,” Renya said, wiping away more tears as they fell. “Not anymore. You are safe. You are safe with us. You are safe with… with me.” She nodded, as if to affirm her own statement.

Leliana dropped her gaze with a vague nod of her own, closing her eyes as Renya’s thumb brushed against her cheek again.

“You are not Marjolaine, either,” Renya said tentatively.

“How do you know?” Leliana whispered desperately.

Renya didn’t comment, merely wiped away the fresh tears slowly and deliberately. Leliana managed a watery chuckle.

“Marjolaine could cry, too. She could draw up emotions so you thought her heart was breaking.” She swallowed. “So could I,” she added, turning her head away from Renya a little more, ashamed to admit another similarity between her and her old bardmaster.

“Is that what you are doing?” Renya asked softly.

Leliana met Renya’s gaze anxiously. “No,” she said imploringly and shaking her head. “No, no it’s not,” she repeated, her voice sounding increasingly frantic. “It’s not… I swear it’s not… It’s not… It’s…”

Her last word was muffled by Renya’s neck, the elf having pulled Leliana into a tight embrace as Leliana succumbed to her sadness. Renya held her silently for a while as sobs racked the bard’s body.

“It is alright,” Renya murmured into her ear soothingly. “It is alright now.” She rubbed Leliana’s back gently.

“It’s not…”

“It is,” the elf insisted firmly. “It is alright now.”

Leliana shook her head. No, it wasn’t. Marjolaine was right; once Renya saw Leliana for who she was, she would despise her as much as she despised the bardmaster. A little shiver went through her, and Renya hugged her more tightly, kissing her shoulder.

“Hush, Leliana. Hush, da’vhenan…”

Leliana stayed quiet this time, letting Renya hold her and listening to the elf murmur to her with her accented voice. Her breathing finally evened, but Renya seemed to not be in any hurry to release her, so the bard stayed with her face in the crook of Renya’s neck, her arms wrapped tightly around her, long after she had stopped crying. Silent minutes passed, until Leliana finally felt awkward still gripping Renya and let go.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes and straightening her hair. “You must think I’m so silly.”

Renya shook her head. “Nae. Not at all.” She indicated the gates. “Are you ready to go back?”

Leliana nodded, taking a deep breath. The elf was acting as if Leliana collapsing into her arms, sobbing, was the most normal thing that could have happened, and Leliana was torn between feeling embarrassed and feeling grateful. They wandered back toward the gate slowly, each one pursuing her own thoughts.

Renya slipped toward a nearby clump of trees and returned moments later with a single white flower. She fell back into step beside Leliana and handed her the flower without comment. Leliana took it just as silently, unable to stop the smile that spread on her face or the happy swelling that occurred in her chest.

“What is the occasion?” she finally asked shyly before they reentered the city.

“You like these, don’t you?”

Leliana nodded, her smile widening.

“I saw one by the forest,” Renya said softly, shrugging a little and taking Leliana’s hand. “That is the occasion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! And aw...
> 
> Translations (of my really awful Orlesian... Thanks to Fern11 for the corrections!):  
> Au revoir, ma jolie fille - Goodbye, my pretty thing (literally: little girl)  
> Garde-le en souvenir de moi. - Keep it as my souvenir/a way to remember me
> 
> Man, Marjolaine's a jerk. I love that Leliana pointedly answers her in Ferelden...
> 
>  
> 
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	80. Digress and Sidequest

They met for lunch at the Gnawed Noble Tavern. Everyone seemed keen to avoid talking about how Leliana’s meeting with Marjolaine had gone.

“We found out that we’ll have to go to the Pearl for these wonderful opportunities,” Alistair commented through a mouthful of food. He shook his head. “There was also a sign I saw, outside the alienage…” Glancing at Renya, he continued. “It was saying that there will be a meeting of Grey Warden supporters, actually. It gave a password and everything.”

“Maybe that is the place to start?” Zevran suggested, turning his attention away from the pretty serving girl.

The young woman came over and placed a full dish in front of Renya, and the elf felt fingers whisper across the back of her neck. She looked at the human with some bemusement. The girl winked and walked away. Shaking her head, Renya turned back to the food and saw a piece of paper folded up and tucked underneath her plate.

“What does it say?” she asked after she had unfolded it. Zevran and Leliana looked over her shoulders to read it.

“Why, of all the-!” Leliana said indignantly, reaching to take the paper away from her. Renya pulled it away and looked at Zevran, who was laughing. He slapped Renya on the back.

“It says you should meet our lovely serving girl in the back room for dessert!” he said with a belly laugh.

“Dessert?”

“Yes. Dessert,” Zevran affirmed, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Renya chuckled awkwardly. “Is this typical human behavior?”

“Yes,” Zevran said simply as Leliana glared at him. “It happens to me all the time.”

“You will not do this, of course,” Leliana said, trying to sound casual.

“I am not sure. I have become quite a fan of chocolate pudding.”

Zevran laughed again, pressing his hands onto the table. Nyviel, too, was chuckling. Alistair was very red, trying to ignore the conversation, as Sten and Morrigan continued eating as if nothing was happening. Wynne shook her head in an attempt to disapprove, but couldn’t help but smile as the elves began to tease Renya.

“A modern-day Citharea, you are,” Nyviel said with a chuckle. “However do you do it?”

Renya laughed. “Pointed ears and tattoos, it seems.”

“Tell me, my dear,” Zevran commented, his eyes bright. “How do you take your pudding? Is it a la carte, as they say, or do you prefer to have everything all available at once and then-”

“We’re not seriously talking about this, are we?” Leliana asked.

“I suppose it would depend,” Renya said to Zevran with mock thoughtfulness, ignoring Leliana’s horrified look. “I do not know what one can have with pudding.”

“Ooo, whipped cream!” Nyviel said before turning red and looking down at her meal. “That is not what I meant.”

“Chocolate goes with everything, my lovely Warden,” Zevran said with a wink. “Perhaps bananas, or cherries, or… ah,” he said, closing his eyes. “I always enjoy exotic fruits like melons, plump and juicy, and they barely fit in your hands…”

“Can we stop talking about this?” Alistair cut in loudly, his voice high and strained. Leliana silently agreed. She wished she could catch Renya’s eye, but the elf had remained facing away from her for the entire conversation.

“So shall I tell her you accept her offer to have dessert?” Zevran asked, beginning to rise from the table.

Leliana’s throat tightened. Renya grabbed Zevran’s arm to deter him.

“No, no. As much as I like pudding, I think my enjoyment of it would be directly related to who I share it with,” Renya said simply.

“Will there be anything else, ser?” The serving girl had reappeared, staring at Renya intensely. Zevran cleared his throat.

“I suddenly have a taste in my mouth for chocolate pudding,” he said with a nod. “Enough for the table, please.”

“Right away, ser,” she said, tearing her eyes off of Renya with some disappointment. She returned a few minutes later with small dishes of the dessert.

“See? Now this I like,” Renya said, taking a spoon of the dessert and savoring it. “I would not want to share a dessert with any other group of people. What?” she asked when she saw Alistair staring at her in shock. “What else did you think we were talking about?”

***

They finished their meal and asked the woman behind the bar about the Grey Warden meeting. She looked very uncomfortable and then indicated a little room down the hallway. Renya frowned, but decided that this was not an odd reaction, especially if the Grey Wardens were considered enemies of Ferelden.

“Password?” hissed a voice through the door.

“Griffins will rise,” Renya replied as close to the door as she could.

“Well well,” said a man as they entered. He was well armed, and surrounded by other armored men and women. “Grey Wardens… stupid enough to fall for our trap.”

“Ah, you must be some of Loghain’s men,” Renya commented lightly.

“Enough talking,” he replied, pulling out his swords. “Your traitorous lives end here!”

Renya had never had a swordfight while standing in a doorway, and she made a mental note to never do so again. Visibility was poor, and more than once she had to dodge the blades of her friends to avoid being killed by a rouge swing. Soon, however, Loghain’s men lay dead. Zevran immediately searched them, taking what money he could find and handing it to Renya.

“Rendon Howe,” he said with bemusement, staring at a piece of parchment he had taken from one of the mercenary’s pockets. “Apparently they have heard I did not succeed at my job.”

“Who is Rendon Howe?”

Zevran shrugged. “I thought him to be a general of Loghain’s, but according to this he is the Arl of Amaranthine and the Arl of Denerim _and_ the Arl of Highever. A collector of titles, yes? Hm.” He frowned. “But this says nothing of other traps,” he added with disappointment. “I was hoping for more correspondences, so we know what to avoid.”

“Well, at least we were able to collect some coin for our troubles,” she replied, adding the money to her pouch. She turned to Alistair. “What’s our next lead? Hopefully better than this one?”

***

Renya grumbled as she walked back into Denerim. They had spent the better part of two days running around the immediately surrounding area, delivering notices of death to families of mercenaries, and running errands for the Chantry. They had also met up with a man from the Antivan Crows, who had sent them on a series of four errands, the last one culminating in rescuing the kidnapped son of some far-off bann.

“I’m glad some of us are enjoying ourselves,” Alistair muttered when he saw Morrigan sitting outside the inn, studying her great black book. It had been his decision to travel with a smaller party, so he, Renya, Zevran, and Leliana had borne the brunt of the various leads. Even Elgar looked glad to be back in the city.

The Crow approached them. Renya noticed Zevran melt away into the shadows and didn’t comment. “I see you have been successful,” he said in his thick Antivan accent.

“I suppose,” Renya said, annoyed. “We got there and there was no child.”

“Of course not,” the man replied with a frown. “We have already rescued the boy. All of these errands have been to help you. You simply needed to be present at the drop.”

“So you have just been helping us out of the goodness of your heart?” Renya asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Yes and no. The Blight will affect all of us eventually. You have helped the Crows, and the Crows are now making sure the Wardens have more support. There will be a landsmeet eventually, will there not?” He bowed to her. “I wish you luck, Wardens. If you are ever in Antiva, look us up. We would be glad for your services.” And he sauntered away.

Zevran sidled up next to her again. “Don’t,” he advised. “They will never let you go, and you will watch your friends die.” He looked sad for a moment, before shaking his head and smiling again. “In the meanwhile, that very handsome guard over there told me of some trouble in the Pearl? Perhaps we should go there next.”

“The brothel? Again?” Alistair asked. Zevran seemed unconcerned.

“Those poor women may need our help.”

So, four back alleyways and a few handfuls of dead thugs later, they arrived at the Pearl. Morrigan, Wynne, and Nyviel had joined them. The mages wore matching disgust on their faces.

“Do not touch anything,” Morrigan said with disgust as she looked around the room. Her eyes fell onto two very drunk men lounging on chairs with their shirts unbuttoned, spilling their drinks on the floor as they sat in a stupor. Two very young woman sat with them, watching them with resigned boredom. “Or… drink anything. Or… sit anywhere…”

Renya was looking around with confused interest. To her, it seemed she was in a tavern. “So this is a brothel?” she asked. “What a strange name. I do not understand… Is ‘broth’ a human term for wine?”

Zevran chuckled.

“I worked in a brothel for a short period of time,” Leliana commented. She smiled at Zevran as he gaped at her. “I served tea. It was complimentary.”

Before he could respond:

“Good afternoon, sers,” the proprietor said kindly. She was well laid out in silks and jewelry. “Welcome to the Pearl, where your wish is our command. What can I interest you in today?”

“Excuse me?” Renya asked.

“Men? Women? Both?”

“I don’t think I know what you-”

“Or perhaps you prefer a surprise?” At that moment a loud bang, followed by a thrilled scream floated out from one of the doors down the hallway. Renya raised her eyebrows.

“Home sweet home,” Zevran said with a little smile.

Leliana noticed Renya’s ears twitching, and wondered what exactly the elf was able to hear that she couldn’t. On second thought, she reasoned as she remembered where they were. _Maybe I’m better off not knowing. Yes,_ she affirmed to herself when she saw Nyviel’s face turning redder and redder.

“Um, we… heard there was trouble here,” Renya said stiffly, sounding distracted.

The woman’s face darkened. “Ah. Yes. The, er… Crimson Oars are in the back. They have been causing my girls great distress. I would be very pleased if you could convince them to leave. Try not to leave too much of a mess…”

“I think I may wait here…” Wynne said. Zevran offered to stay with her in the main room. Renya and her remaining companions entered the next room over.

“We’re the Crimson Oars, yeah? Most feared in all Ferelden!” a man bellowed to his companions. The men all cheered and raised their tankards. They were obviously drunk. “And here’s a pretty little elf. Oh, I like that they put you in armor. Danger adds something, doesn’t it, boys?” His bloodshot eyes swept across Leliana, Nyviel, and Morrigan as well.

“They sent us a party!”

The man made a grab for Nyviel, but Renya appeared in front of her and pushed his hand away, glaring at him.

“You need to leave. Now.”

“Demanding. I like her,” whispered another man to no one in particular.

“The Crimson Oars?” Renya asked angrily. “Yes. Thugs and riffraff. The guards want you to leave.”

“What do I care what guards think?” the first man slurred at her. A gasp caught Renya’s attention. Another man had come up beside Leliana and grabbed her, smelling her hair and dragging his hand down her body. The rest of the party took a step forward to help, but the man held a knife to Leliana’s throat as his hand snaked lower. He kissed the bard’s temple and leered at the elf.

“Let her go,” Renya growled. The Crimson Oar leader laughed.

“Why should he do that?”

“Because I have killed ogres, demons, and dragons with my bare hands because they got in my way,” she said threateningly. “What makes you think little shemlen in cute metal cans will fare any better once you have made me angry?” Her voice was soft, and the room went silent. Even Alistair shivered at the sudden change in the elf. “Let her go, and leave.”

But the leader wasn’t giving up that easily. “Oh, yeah?” he said with as much bravado as he could muster. “What do we get out of it?”

Fast as lightening, Renya grabbed a short knife from his belt and threw it at one of his men, narrowly missing the man’s ear as the blade buried itself into the column behind him. She never once took her eyes off the leader.

“Your lives.”

The man’s eyes were wide. “Right, well then. Sorry for the trouble. We’ll be leaving right away and going back to our ship. Men?”

The man holding Leliana thrust her roughly away from him, pushing her into Alistair, who caught her easily. One by one the Crimson Oars marched out of the brothel without a word between them.

“You’re really scary sometimes,” Alistair said to Renya once they exited the side room.

“Hm,” she grunted darkly. Leliana came up and squeezed her fingers gently.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“That was impressive stuff,” said a woman’s voice. Renya turned and found a woman seated at a table, her boots up on the wood, surveying her with interest. “I’ve never seen anybody clear a room full of those thugs without any bloodshed. I’m Isabela,” she said, swinging her boots off the table and rising.

“Zevran, good to see you again,” she added.

“And you, Isabela,” he responded charmingly.

Isabela smiled at Renya’s blank look. “I’m the captain of the Siren’s Call, here in Denerim. I’m what you might call… a pirate.” She looked at Renya quizzically. “You… do know what a pirate is, right?”

Renya glanced Isabela up and down, arching an eyebrow at her appearance. A bit of cloth held back her black hair, and light brown eyes twinkled at her with mischief. She looked like she spent a great deal of time in the sun, and her skin was dark, like Duncan’s. Renya blinked when she realized just how much of Isabela’s skin she had been admiring.

“A… woman who can handle herself,” Renya offered, indicating the two blades dangling off of Isabela’s belt. The pirate smiled appreciatively. Leliana scowled.

“I like you,” Isabela said with a wink. “You’re right. I’m the queen of the eastern seas, and the fiercest sword-fighter in Llomerryn.”

“I saw you fighting those men outside,” Nyviel commented. “That was amazing. Can you teach other people how to do that?”

The Warden inwardly sighed. This was not the time for Nyviel’s fascination in new skills to come out.

But Isabela shrugged. “I could,” she said. “But you need to be clever. Here, you,” she said to Renya, pointing at her. “Ever played the game wicked grace?”

Renya folded her arms and made a noncommittal gesture, refusing to admit that she had never heard of the game.

“Although…” Isabela said thoughtfully, taking in Renya’s armor, her vallaslin, and her pointed ears in one swoop of her eyes. “I’m sure we could arrange something else, if you were willing to… talk privately.”

The elf blinked at her.

“Talk…privately…?” she asked with an arched eyebrow. “You would prefer for us to duel, then?”

Isabela chuckled. “Yes, sweet thing. We can duel, and I can teach you how I use technique, dexterity, and attention to details, and not strength, to achieve my aims.”

Renya appraised Isabela. She was fairly confident she could best the pirate in a spar. “Alright,” she said with a shrug.

Leliana stepped beside her. “You’re considering this? I… thought you were joking,” she said seriously. “But what about…?” she began again, with a touch of anger this time. “I can’t believe you are willing to… with a…”

Isabela looked taken aback. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were already claimed,” she said good-naturedly. She glanced Leliana up and down. “You’d be welcome, too, of course.”

“Claimed? It is just a swordfight,” Renya murmured to no one in particular. She glanced at her companions and saw Alistair’s blush and Zevran’s grin. Leliana’s face was set as if in stone. Realization dawned and Renya’s eyes widened. She was about to respond, when:

“Careful, she bites, I’m sure,” Zevran offered, coming up and standing next to Leliana. Isabela smiled at him.

Leliana frowned, glancing at Renya. “I do not.” Heat was rising on her neck.

Renya, having finally figured out what Isabela was suggesting, was now determinedly keeping her expression flat and trying to not think of what else Leliana “didn’t” do.

“No, I have enemies enough,” Isabela said, glancing between Renya and Leliana. “I would prefer not making any more.”

Renya cleared her throat. “Wicked grace, you said?”

Isabela nodded at the elf. “Yes, you know the rules, right?”

“Oh, yes, wicked grace,” Leliana said with meaning. She was torn between relief that Renya had turned down the offer and anger at Isabela for being willing to take advantage of the elf who didn’t understand the innuendo. She turned to Renya. “That was the one you showed me, wasn’t it? Where you had to match the pictures on the cards?”

Renya nodded, grateful. “Yes, that is the one.”

“Then let’s play. “ Isabela indicated the wooden table and the two sat down. She dealt the cards. “Five for you, and five for me,” she said evenly. Renya caught a small hand motion that didn’t fit with the rest of Isabela’s movements.

“You’re cheating,” Renya said with a frown. “You dealt yourself more cards and put them on the bench beside you.”

“Well done,” Isabela said, impressed. “You really do know your way around this game.” She rose. “That was all I wanted to see. Would you like to go out to the back and spar, then? If your swordplay is as keen as your cardplay, we might both learn a thing or two!”

***

Renya walked away from the back alley, smiling. Wynne had just healed Isabela’s many bruises, and the elf was smugly watching the pirate shake her head and resheath her swords. Isabela was a talented swordsman, and Renya had learned a few new skills from her, but Isabela hadn’t managed to get one hit in on the elf. They had danced and twirled around each other, blades flashing and both grinning at the challenge. In the end Renya had called for them to stop, recognizing a kindred spirit in the pirate and knowing she would not cease until she could not physically continue.

“That was amazing,” Leliana murmured, brushing a piece of hair from Renya’s forehead. “It looks like you are dancing when you fight like that.”

The elf smiled, pleased. “Ma serannas.” She glanced at Alistair. “Duncan helped me hone my skills on the way to Ostegar.”

“Well fought, Renya. But I wish you had taken me up on my other offer,” Isabela grumbled good-naturedly as she walked passed the group. “I would have better memories from this.”

“Ir tel’abelas, Isabela,” Renya called after her. Leliana looked at her curiously. “I told her I wasn’t sorry.”

“Well,” Isabela called back, spinning on her heel. “If you’re ever my way again, Renya, my offer still stands. I have to mend my pride somehow!” Her eyes twinkled and she smiled kindly at the elf. Renya chuckled and decided she liked Isabela, as strange as she was.

“Ma nuvenin. Dareth shiral, Isabela the pirate queen.”

Isabela’s laugh echoed after them.

“It’s getting dark,” Wynne commented. “Maybe we should return to the inn?”

Nyviel sighed. Renya looked at her curiously.

“We went to every single inn in Denerim – well, except the Pearl,” she said darkly. “And none of them will allow elves in the rooms. I had to sleep on my bedroll on the floor in the kitchens with the servants and the other elves that are traveling with their... their humans…” she finished in a grumble. “At least at the Tower we were treated as equals.”

Renya wasn’t sure what outraged her more; the treatment of Nyviel or that no one else had seemed to defend her.

“Because you were all equally hated by the Chantry,” Morrigan commented, studying her nails.

Wynne saw Renya’s face. “We didn’t find this out until we tried to go to bed last night. They wouldn’t allow her up the stairs, and we were trying to avoid an altercation.”

“It’s okay…” Nyviel said with a forced shrug. “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“It’s not right,” Leliana said with a frown. “I don’t understand why it has to be like this.”

“Ask your Shantri,” Renya said darkly. At Leliana’s look, she shrugged. “You told me this story, Leliana. One of your Divine humans called an Exalted March on the Dales. And now, this.”

Their reception at the inn wasn’t any warmer when they returned, especially with the appearance of two more elves that the innkeeper hadn’t known about when they first arrived. And there was another problem.

“What do you mean, you gave away our rooms?” Alistair demanded. The innkeeper shrugged.

“A much more affluent customer came in,” he said. Renya’s lip twitched as the man glanced at another patron. It seemed that _affluent_ meant _human-only._

“I could not stop this, Warden,” Sten said slowly. “I assumed you did not want me to handle this by slaying every dishonorable human involved until our rooms were returned to us.”

“No, not really. Thank you, Sten,” Renya said quickly.

With a glance at Renya, Leliana stepped forward and tried to persuade the innkeeper to find a room, but he declined, his eyes staring at the tattoos on Renya’s forehead.

So that’s how it is, is it? she thought. She walked up to the counter and pulled two sovereigns from her purse, laying them on the worn wood. Keeping her fingers on the gold so he couldn’t take the coins, Renya leaned in. Coin had changed the minds of a templar and a Chantry priestess; why shouldn’t it work here, too?

“Are you sure you do not have any rooms available?”

The man looked down at the gold and swallowed, greed in his eyes. “Well, maybe I have one… or two!” he added swiftly as Renya began to slide the coins away from him. “Here… all the way up, to the left,” he said, handing over two old keys. Renya released the coins and felt Leliana's eyes on her as the man swiped them into his hand.

“Ma serannas.”

Up three flights of stairs and down a dimly lit hallway, they found their new rooms.

“Girl’s room and boy’s room?” Alistair suggested. Without waiting for a response he marched over to one of the doors and began fiddling the key in the lock. Sten followed him without comment and Zevran looked disappointed and intrigued all at the same time.

Unfortunately, there was only one bed in each room. Renya turned to Wynne. “Yours, of course,” she said politely.

“Thank you, Renya,” the mage said with a small smile. “I’d say we could all share, but I doubt the bed is large enough for even one person to sleep on comfortably.” She sighed. Looking at the bed, Renya figured she was probably right.

The elf glanced at Leliana and raised her eyebrows. “I do not think it looks very comfortable.”

“What?”

“The bed. You said they were comfortable.”

“Don’t judge all beds by this one, Renya,” Wynne said, sitting on the mattress experimentally. “A lot of them are better than this one.”

“At least we are inside, then” Renya said, rolling out her bedroll on the floor. After another argument - this one with significantly less coin and significantly more knives pressed against throats - Renya had tracked down where the innkeeper had thrown their belongings.

“And none of us shall have to keep watch,” Morrigan said, stretching. She, too, set up her bedroll; hers was at the farthest corner of the room, away from everyone else.

“Here, Renya,” Nyviel said. “I got this for you while you were all out yesterday.” She handed the Warden a small book. Renya took it gently, brushing her fingers across the blue griffon on the front. She opened the brown leather book and saw squiggly characters on the pages. The only symbol she recognized – remembering it from seeing it so many times in Genetivi’s research – was the one for the word ‘the.’

“Thank you,” Renya said with a smile. “But… I can’t read this.”

“Well, you know, there are plenty of people here…” Nyviel commented with a shrug, pointedly not looking at Leliana. The bard got the hint.

“I could read it to you,” she said softly.

“Perhaps it would be better if we all got some rest,” Wynne interrupted. She waved her hand and the lamps went out, leaving the low fire as the only light in the room.

“Indeed,” Morrigan said from her corner, grumpy at the sudden disappearance of light. “I suppose further study of this grimoire can wait, as well.” If she was expecting an apology, she didn’t get one.

“Well, goodnight,” Nyviel said from somewhere around Renya’s feet. She was disappointed. After seeing her interact with Marjolaine, Nyviel had decided to try trusting Leliana again. And, well… it was nice to see Renya smile every once in a while, and she did it so much more often when Leliana was around.

Leliana, meanwhile, sat on her bedroll, just as disappointed, if not moreso, than Nyviel. She had been looking forward to reading to Renya; it was another reason for them to be close. She sighed and lay down, facing the fire and away from Renya. A few minutes later, a hand was placed on her shoulder, and Leliana grinned as Renya silently kissed her cheek. She turned her head and smiled when she saw the green eyes sparkling down at her. Another silent kiss, this one on her lips. Leliana wanted to reach out and pull Renya close to her, but resisted. Renya brushed her fingers across her cheek and kissed her again before turning back onto her bedroll and falling asleep.

“Goodnight,” Leliana breathed, small smile still on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D'aww...
> 
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	81. Forgotten Shadow

_Renya sat hunched by Hahren Paivel’s aravel, her tongue between her teeth as she carved a little figurine with her knife. It was supposed to be Mythal, but somewhere along the way she had begun to look less like a goddess and more like an elf. Renya smiled to herself, thinking of how long she spent carving the delicate ears to make them perfect._

_“What are you doing?”_

_Rneya yelped and dropped the little figure, accidentally jabbing herself with the knife and dripping blood on the ground and on her green armor. Creators, she had just gotten the blood from those wolves out…_

_“Oh no!” Merrill was kneeling next to her in an instant, taking Renya’s hand between both of her own. A whisper of green energy danced between her hands and Renya felt her skin mend itself. Merrill continued to hold her hand long after the healing was complete and, not for the first time, Renya noticed how smooth Merrill’s slender fingers were. She was almost ashamed of her rough, calloused hands, but Merrill didn’t seem to mind. As they knelt next to each other, Renya allowed herself to be amazed at the magic energy that flowed through Merrill; it was so strong that even Renya, a hunter, could feel it. She was more powerful than she would ever give herself credit for, Renya noted. Even Marathari’s touch wasn’t as electric as Merrill’s._

_But Merrill had noticed the figurine on the ground and was staring at it, her head tiled to one side. She released Renya and picked it up._

_“What’s this?”_

_“I… it’s… it’s just…I’m…”_

_Merrill smiled. “I’m impressed. Not only did I sneak up on a hunter, I’ve reduced the great Renya Mahariel to babbling like the clan’s first.”_

_“It’s not ready,” Renya mumbled, reaching to take the figurine away from Merrill. Merrill pulled it away._

_“You made this?”_

_“It’s… supposed to be Mythal.” Renya pulsed her jaw. A little non-traditional… technically she should be hunting a very large animal for this purpose, especially now that she had her new bow that Tamlen had given her, but… she relaxed when she saw Merrill’s smile._

_“You_ do _listen when I tell stories,” the first said, pleased._

_“Of course I do,” Renya told her lap._

_Merrill frowned. “But… her vallaslin. It looks like mine.”_

_Renya gulped. “Does it?” she asked, her voice higher than usual. Merrill didn’t catch the hint._

_“Yes, of course. Look. Here, the swirls are like this…” She pointed to the carving and then to the tattoos on her face. “And on her cheeks, too. No one else…”_

_“I wanted her to be beautiful.”_

_That stopped Merrill’s talking. “What?”_

_“I… I wanted her to look beautiful. So… so I added vallaslin.”_

_“Oh.” Merrill frowned again._ “Oh.” _She continued to stare at the figurine. “If… if you wanted her to be beautiful,” she said, rising and starting to walk away. “You would have made her look like you.” A warm hand on her shoulder stopped her._

_“Nae, lethallan,” Renya murmured from behind Merrill. She leaned in close to Merrill’s ear, smiling when she saw it twitch at her breath. “Unless… sahlin lathbora viran?”_

_Merrill’s face broke into a grin and she turned around, pink with embarrassment but looking pleased. “Glandival ma vhenan’ara, Renya.”_

_Renya found herself crushed in a hug from the lithe first, and returned it enthusiastically. She couldn’t remember a time when her heart had felt so light._

Renya roused herself from her daydream with a little shake of her head, her heart heavy. She was still holding the piece of dark wood she had picked up from the forest in one hand, her knife poised for carving in the other. A sigh escaped her as she stared at the figurine. She had started carving with the intent to create a small figurine of Sylaise for Nyviel, since the young elf seemed so interested in the Dalish ways, but somewhere along the way the carving became more and more human. Renya shook her head in disbelief as she recognized the woman she had absentmindedly carved. The sun was beginning to rise, and Renya’s glance fell onto Leliana’s red hair, looking as if it was beginning to glow in the early-morning sun. She sighed heavily and went back to staring at the figurine in her hand.

***

Leliana was awakened early by a warm hand on her shoulder.

“Renya…?”

But the elf pressed a finger to her lips to quiet her. Gently she pulled the bard to her feet and tip-toed over to the door. Leliana shook her head at how silently Renya moved. If she hadn’t been able to see her, she never would have known that she was moving at all. The bard sidled up next to Renya, who was waiting at the door. Just as noiselessly, Renya opened the door and stepped out, waiting until Leliana had exited before shutting the door with a barely-audible click.

“Renya?”

She was silenced again, and Renya took her by the hand and led her down the hall to a small balcony. The sun was rising, and Leliana shivered a little. She smiled when she saw Renya sit down on some blankets she had taken from the room, although it was hard to believe that Renya had been able to leave and re-enter the room without disturbing anyone else.

 _Elf,_ she pictured Renya saying.

Renya waved her over and she sat down on the blankets easily. Another shiver went up her spine and Renya wrapped one of the blankets around her shoulders.

“Better?”

Leliana took a deep breath and shook her head. “Just a little.”

With a knowing smile, Renya scooted closer to her. “Better now?” she asked, leaning in and kissing Leliana’s cheek gently.

“…Just a little.”

She smiled as Renya gently tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before leaning in and kissing her, pressing their lips together firmly. Renya pulled away slightly.

“Now?”

“Yes,” the bard said with another shiver, this one not due to the temperature. She felt Renya prop her arm behind her back, pressing them together as they sat watching the sunrise.

“What’s this?” Leliana asked a few minutes later, catching sight of a brown leather-bound book partially hidden by one of the blankets.

Renya pulled it out and showed her. It was the book Nyviel had given her.

Leliana arched an eyebrow with a small smile. “Do you want me to read this to you?”

The elf shrugged. “I have been looking at the pictures. I think it is about a Grey Warden… another elf,” she added with interest. Leliana opened the book to the first few pages.

“The Battle of Ayesleigh,” Leliana read. “The story of the final fight of the Fourth Blight in 5:24 Exalted.” She raised her eyebrows at Renya, who was listening intently.

“I know a little of this,” Leliana commented. “The Grey Warden who ended the Blight was called Garahel, a city elf…”

“Will you tell me the story?” Renya asked, staring hungrily at the words on the page that she could not understand.

“Of course,” the bard replied. With a little glance at the elf, she placed her finger under the words and traced along as she read. She smiled as Renya scooted closer.

“The wind that stirs their shallow graves,” she began, her tone changing to that of the well-trained bard she was. “Carries their song across the lands…”

For the next half hour, Leliana read through the story of Garahel the elven Grey Warden. They were about halfway through the book when the door to the balcony opened again. Nyviel stood there, her eyes wide.

“Nyviel! Are you alright?” Renya asked with concern. Leliana noticed that she didn’t remove her arm from where it was propped behind her back and smiled.

“Yes, and thanks to me you will be, too,” the younger elf said softly. She sat down on the blanket on Leliana’s other side. “Wynne would have had a fit if she saw you two were gone. She’s still going to have a fit,” she amended with a roll of her eyes. “But at least I might be able to soften it. The three of us were all out here together, right?”

Leliana frowned. “What vexes her so about us… spending time together?”

Nyviel sighed heavily. “I don’t think it’s spending time together that she’s so worried about. You know how she goes on about the Blight and everything else. ‘No distractions, dear.’ She was a kind mentor, but always very strict like that…”

The bard shook her head, heart racing. Renya wrapped her arm around Leliana’s waist and looked very unconcerned. They spoke at the same time.

“I do not care what-”

“Distractions?” Leliana cut in, annoyed. Renya stopped politely and looked at her. “What distractions?”

“This relationship you two have,” Nyviel said, imitating Wynne’s tone.

“We’re all here to end the Blight. That’s all any of us want,” Leliana said forcefully. She shook her head. “And there is no reason to fear any relationship. I left Lothering to follow Renya and Alistair for one reason: to fight this darkness. I was a bard; I’m capable of completing a job without letting feelings get involved and in the way, no matter what it looks like,” she said with finality, a little stung that Wynne thought her to be a distraction.

A moment too late she realized what her words had sounded like.

The balcony went still. Renya slowly removed her arm.

“Thank you for starting this story, Leliana,” Renya said quietly, taking the book from her. The bard let the pages slip from her fingers without resistance, feeling terrible.

“Renya, that’s not what I meant…” Leliana said desperately.

“Dirthara bana’taren,” Renya murmured. “Truth from anger’s darkness.”

“No! No, I just meant that we all are dedicated to ending the Blight and nothing will stop us…” But Renya simply got up, looking sad. Nyviel was glaring at Leliana with a very exasperated look.

“Shall we go break the fast?” Renya asked the embossed blue griffon on the book’s cover. She didn’t wait for an answer before going back inside.

“So glad you told her how you feel,” Nyviel said flatly.

“You have no idea how much I hate myself right now.”

“Exponentially less than I will hate you if you continue leading Renya on before doing something like that again,” the elf said with quiet anger. “She doesn’t need this. She either needs you by her side, or needs you out of her thoughts. Pick one and stay with it.”

“But-”

“Leliana,” Nyviel interrupted sharply. “You’re human. She’s Dalish. They don’t get along. Apparently,” she finished in a mutter, angrily indicating the space where Renya had been sitting.

Leliana sighed in exasperation. She wasn’t the only one who had made mistakes in this, after all. “Yes, my words were poorly chosen,” she allowed. “But…”

“You can’t keep this up. You almost stab her, you join in for daenlea’nira. You speak with such relish about manipulating people to get what you want, you expect her to trust you. You lie about your past, then expect her to help you.” Her eyes bored into Leliana’s, and Leliana inwardly shivered at the cold look in them, even as she matched the elf’s anger.

Nyviel wasn’t done. “You got her to admit her feelings, didn’t you? Do you realize what she must have given up for that? And now you do this? Why? Marjolaine is gone now, isn’t she? Of course. It’s easy for the bard to discard the Dalish elf once she is no longer useful, isn’t it? It seems Renya was right about humans, after all.”

Leliana’s throat was tight with anger. “Why are you saying this to me?”

Nyviel crouched down and pulled something out from under the folds of the blankets, lying rumpled on the stone balcony. She opened her hand. In it was a little hand-carved statuette in a dark wood Leliana didn’t recognize.

“A Dalish elf carved this. She was about to give it to a Chantry sister, if I’m not mistaken,” Nyviel said. Leliana stared at it, her heart breaking and her anger dissipating.

“Maker…”

“It’s Andraste, actually. You know: that prophet that Renya doesn’t really believe in.” She let the uncomfortable silence hang. “She made this for you.”

Leliana stayed quiet.

“You better fix this. Figure out who you are and what you want. Otherwise,” Nyviel said, narrowing her eyes. “Fen’Harel can have you,” she growled. She turned on her heel and left Leliana standing alone and shivering on the balcony.

***

Renya slammed the door of her room open. Luckily, Morrigan and Wynne were already awake. She stormed up to the older mage.

“My life is my own, fenedhis tel’dirthalelan,” she growled. Wynne looked at her in shock.

“Renya? Are you alright?”

“Yes, I am fine,” the Warden replied, not sounding fine at all. “I promise you, here and now, that I will do anything that it takes to end this Blight. A promise, Wynne, from me to you. Dirtha’vhenan - a promise from one of the Elvhen. I will end this Blight,” she repeated, her voice rising in volume. “I will end this Blight!”

“Renya, please. Tell me what has happened. I’ve obviously upset you, but I don’t know what I’ve done…”

“Stay out of my personal affairs, Wynne. You will see the end of this horrific mess, and that is what you want, yes? How I go about it is my own business,” Renya snarled.

Nyviel appeared in the doorway, looking similarly angry. Wynne looked at her warily. Renya stomped out of the room without another word, her robes swishing behind her. Morrigan was watching the conversations unfold from her corner without comment, her eyes wide.

“Morrigan…?” Nyviel said, glancing at the door. The apostate huffed and followed the Warden, taking her grimoire with her.

“You got your wish,” she began. “Leliana as good as told Renya she feels no attraction toward her,” she said once Morrigan had left and closed the door behind her. Wynne’s eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch.

“Oh, no… that’s…”

“I do not believe her,” Nyviel interrupted baldly. “She said that in response to your anticipated reaction to their relationship.” She watched with some satisfaction as Wynne looked guily. She pressed her point.

“I don’t think Renya’s ever appreciated your meddling. She’s reached her breaking point – she has given too much and received too little in return.” She shrugged. “Renya will end this Blight. She made a promise, and will keep it. It would do well for us to believe her.”

“I do not control Leliana’s feelings or actions, Nyviel,” Wynne said gently. Nyviel laughed humorlessly.

“No, you don’t. But you helped set the stage for her words. You share some of this blame as well.” She leveled such a severe gaze at Wynne that, had her eyes not been blue, the older mage would have sworn she was looking at Renya.

“But…” The mage sighed. She wondered if it had been worth it. If she had left the two alone, Leliana would not have her heart broken, which was the last thing Wynne wanted for the friendly bard. But on the other hand, she finally heard Renya’s promise to do anything to end the Blight, which was indeed what she wanted.

But at what cost?

It wouldn’t take long to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to take this moment to say I like the two different scenarios with Renya's carving... one was impromptu and involved a careful extraction of feelings by a woman who is honest and kind and made Renya feel safe about opening up, and one was carefully planned and yet went awry when the other person inadvertently did the exact opposite of making Renya feel safe before Renya could say anything.
> 
> But considering she's furiously angry, she's still pretty insightful, isn't she? If only she acted on those observations instead of always being so goshdarn polite...
> 
> I promise I have all of this well in hand, don't worry!
> 
> Translations:  
> Sahlin lathbora viran - basically Renya is asking if the love deep in her heart is misplaced.  
> Glandival ma vhenan’ara - Merrill replies that Renya is her heart's desire, even though this is sort of worded awkwardly if literally translated  
> Fenedhis tel’dirthalelan - tel'dirthalelan is someone who doesn't know anything, and fenedhis is defined as a "common swear" (which I take to mean can be used for many different swears) ......so basically I like to think that Renya is calling Wynne a stupid a*shole.
> 
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	82. Pudding

They broke the fast in the little tavern attached to the inn. Renya sat at the head of the table, Alistair to her right and Morrigan to her left. Nyviel sat beside the apostate, speaking quietly to her. Sten was eating stoicaly as ever, and Zevran kept trying to stike up conversation with Leliana with little luck.

Renya wasn’t speaking to anyone. Leliana, sitting on Alistair’s other side, noticed her empty bowl and began to reach for it, but Renya swiped it away without looking at her, flagging down the serving elf. She smiled kindly at the elf, both of them looking awkward at the situation, but the server took the empty bowl and returned a few minutes later with another full helping of food.

“Ma serannas. Thank you,” Renya said politely before turning back to the meal, her expression darkening.

“So… I saw Brother Genetivi this morning when I went to the Chantry,” Alistair commented to Renya. The elf nodded to show she was listening, glancing up at him over the tops of her eyes.

“He seemed happy to be back in Denerim. He gave me a little necklace of Andraste. Says that it traces all the way back to the first age,” he said with a shrug.

“Hm.”

“I… don’t suppose you’ve become a convert in the past day, have you?” he said, trying for humor. Renya became very still.

“No, I still do not believe in your Shantri’s teachings,” she said dryly.

“Well… I’ll look ridiculous in this,” Alistair said lightly. “What do you want me to do with it?”

Leliana glimpsed the necklace. It was very delicately carved, and reminded her of the wooden carving that Nyviel had showed her.

“I do not care,” Renya said with a shrug.

“Leliana?”

“I…” the bard faltered. “I will hold on to it, thank you,” she said quietly, taking the necklace with a small, but forced, smile.

Renya rose without saying anything, threw some silver coins on the table, and stalked out, knocking into a tradesman who was walking toward the bar and neither apologizing nor acting as if she had seen him.

“What’s…?” Alistair asked in bewilderment, watching his fellow Warden leave the tavern.

“Leave her,” Morrigan and Nyviel said together.

Alistiar looked at the two women, but then sighed and nodded. Renya definitely did not look like she wanted anyone to follow her. With interest, he noticed that Leliana did not try to follow her this time. Instead, she was quietly eating her meal, answering Zevran politely when he spoke to her, but otherwise not engaging with any of the other companions. He sighed. Wynne, too, was looking uncomfortable.

“Should I...?” he began.

“No,” Nyviel cut in sharply.

Alistair nodded, his lips in a thin line. “Right.”

***

They found Renya staring at a sign posted on the wall by a heavy gate. Pictures emphasized the words of the notice. Renya was frowning, her hands clenched into fists.

“Oh, no…” Alistair murmured. She was standing outside the alienage. He knew what the sign said.

“What?” Nyviel asked.

“Elves… technically aren’t allowed to be armed in Denerim. Or Ferelden, really,” he said softly. “We’ve been getting away with it because of this,” he explained, tapping on the silver griffin on his armor. “Most of Ferelden seems to still respect the Wardens, at least.”

“Why are we not allowed in here?” Renya had stomped over to the one of the guards outside the nearby heavy gate. Alistair hurried over.

The guard raised his eyebrows. “The alienage? There’s a plague in there. No one’s allowed in or out until it’s been contained,” he said. His eyes flicked up to her vallaslin and Renya’s jaw pulsed.

“You’re a Dalish?” He noticed her swords. “And elves are not allowed to be armed,” he added, reaching for his own.

“I am a Grey Warden,” she spat at him, jabbing her finger at the griffin on the armor she had changed into. At that moment, the guard caught sight of Alistair, similarly clad.

“Oh,” he said with a frown, releasing his sword. “My apologies, ser,” he said to Alistair. “I didn’t know.”

“I’m not really the one you should…”

But Renya had stormed off. Alistair sighed.

“When will the alienage be open again?”

The guard shrugged. “Whenever the healers have determined the plague is no longer a threat. I’m sorry, ser. That’s all I know.”

“Right. Thank you,” Alistair said heavily. He turned and followed Renya, who was now standing near the wooden door of an inconspicuous home.

“Are we ready to go?” she asked icily. He nodded.

“I… I think so.”

“Good. Let’s.”

With another nod, he turned and began to walk toward the gate, the rest of the companions following him. He heard a loud thump, and turned in time to see Renya pulling her hunting knife out of the door, her face twisted in fury.

“Renya…” It was the first thing Alistair had really heard Leliana say all morning.

The elf’s face twitched and she ferociously stabbed her hunting knife into the door again, burying it almost to the hilt. She yanked it out and stormed over to where the group was standing, all of them staring at her apprehensively.

“See, now we’re going to have to replace that door for the owner…” Alistair commented gently with a half smile.

“She will not be returning to Ferelden.” Renya was determinedly not looking at Leliana.

Walking up to the city gates, Renya barely glanced behind her before exiting the city, Elgar at her heels.

***

“Hey… hey elf…”

Renya slowed. A dirty hand was beckoning to her.

“Looking for some coin? I’m looking for someone I can trust to deliver some… merchandise. And you look like you could handle youself if something happens,” the ragged man said, looking her over with approval. His eyes lingered on the swords at her waist. Renya twitched an eyebrow.

“And you are asking the elf with tattoos on her forehead to blend in?”

The man leered at her. “Elves are good at this kind of thing, yeah? Quiet. Sneaky, you know?”

Renya stayed silent, her frayed nerves screaming at her to separate this human’s head from his shoulders.

“And fast! You get the name rabbits from somewhere, don’t you?”

The elf’s jaw pulsed. Vaguely she heard the rest of her companions coming up behind her. But the man wasn’t done.

“You’d be great at this. Get a hood to cover those awful marks on your face, and no one will possibly question you. Some rags, a collar… maybe a leash? No one cares about a knife-ear on her master’s errand…”

He was pressed against the wall with Renya’s knife at his throat in an instant. “Say one more word,” she hissed. “One more word. I have never begged you shemlen for anything, but I am _begging_ you to speak again…” She pressed the knife into his throat, noting with perverse satisfaction a thin line of blood appearing.

“Renya…” Leliana’s voice cut through the pounding in her ears. The elf responded by pressing the human more forcefully against the wall.

“The shemlen isn’t worth it,” Nyviel said close behind her. Renya blinked. “You’re Dalish, Renya…” she added when a small trickle of blood began dripping down the man’s neck.

“Renya,” Leliana said again, with impossible gentleness. “Please.”

With a growl, Renya spat on the man and knocked him to the ground with a blow to the side of his head. He crumpled with a groan. Renya stared at him with great hatred before twisting the keeper’s ring on his finger. She shook her head and rubbed at her vallaslin as if wishing to rub the ink away.

“Dalish…” she murmured before continuing back out onto the road.

***

They had traveled about two days when Wynne confirmed the change in Renya. Gone was the diplomatic elf who had so easily reduced tensions between the diverse traveling companions, and gone was the light smile and interest in the world around her. Her ferocity toward the darkspawn had increased, to the point where she had bludgeoned a hurlock to death with a rock after her swords had been knocked from her hands. When she spoke, it was to either Alistair about their journey or to Nyviel when the younger elf would tentatively ask about the Dalish. Otherwise, she walked silently next to Morrigan or sat by herself during the evening meals, no longer listening to or taking part in the conversations. This continued with no change as the days turned into weeks.

Nyviel had, seemingly, been correct. Renya was courteous to Wynne – while only speaking to her when she had to– but had been almost completely ignoring Leliana since they left Denerim. And on more than one occasion, as Wynne had patrolled the camp during her watch, she had heard a faint thumping coming from the forest, often accompanied by a voice that sounded like it was swearing in Dalish.

The mage sighed and returned to the present. It was for the good of Ferelden, she reminded herself. Renya would heal and move on. Suddenly the two Wardens, who had been walking side by side, stopped and glanced at each other.

“Darkspawn!” Alistair shouted out a warning. Immediately everyone was busy preparing themselves. They didn’t have long to wait. Soon they were surrounded by a multitude of dark creatures, and each companion found themselves fighting for their lives.

“Renya!” Alistair called as he ran his sword through the last darkspawn attacking him. The elf was surrounded, but appeared to be holding her own. She was still being swarmed, and Alistair charged over to help her.

He slowed to a stop, mouth hanging open for a moment before shaking himself and continuing.

Renya was twirling where she stood, seamlessly killing darkspawn, growling as ferociously as the monsters around her. She smoothly switched from her swords to her knife, throwing it and hitting her mark easily. Between the two Wardens, the darkspawn soon lay dead.

“Are you alright?” Alistair asked. Renya’s face twitched in anger and she pulled out the dal’thanu she had tucked at her hip. Alistair instinctively backed up, but Renya was looking behind him.

The elf threw the dal’thanu, followed in quick succession by her dar’misu. The short blade cut a path into the chest of a darspawn attacking Morrigan; the mage looking relieved as she tossed her black hair back from her face. The axe, meanwhile, split through the air with a dull pulsing sound before burying into the back of the head of a large, armored hurlock that had drawn its sword and was bearing down on Leliana. Renya stormed over and pulled the axe out of the creature’s head without comment, replacing it on her belt in a very fluid motion.

“Wretched creatures,” she spat, collecting the rest of her weapons. She continued walking. Alistair was beside her, glancing at her with concern.

“Warden,” Zevran said politely, coming up next to her. “I’ve noticed that you seem a little… stressed these past few weeks.”

“Have you?” Renya asked dryly.

“I have,” he replied, undaunted.

“Well, that tends to happen to Grey Wardens during a Blight, I’m sure,” she said sarcastically. Zevran chuckled.

“Ah, even at your lowest, your wit remains sharp, my lovely Warden!” The Antivan considered her. “Perhaps something happened in Denerim that has –”

“No.”

“No?” Zevran echoed with a little tilt of his head. “It would seem to me that –”

“Too much chocolate pudding, is all,” Renya interrupted carefully. “I guess I am just not used to it.”

“And what, if you do not mind my asking, is it about pudding that has been so hard for you to, ah, digest?”

Renya pulsed her jaw. “I think I was just expecting it to be… different.”

“Different? How can chocolate pudding be different than what it is?”

The Warden considered this, pretending to not notice Leliana edging herself closer as they walked. “It is a human dish that I finally admitted I liked; it is so different from anything I had when I lived with my clan. And even though it was hard like something so different, I thought it was worth the wait. Then in Denerim… there was a different flavor hidden in it that I had not expected.” She went back to looking straight ahead. “It just left a bad taste in my mouth. I would prefer not to have it again.”

“Perhaps there are other desserts that you would like just as much?” Zevran suggested lightly.

“Perhaps I should stick with what I know I like. And ‘what I know I like’ is back with my clan.”

“Or maybe you should give chocolate pudding another try,” Leliana added softly, her heart racing. “Maybe they just didn’t do it right in the city…”

Renya saw Zevran slip away with a knowing smile, and glared at him. He pretended to not notice as he began talking to Alistair and Wynne. Nyviel, a little behind them, was watching Leliana with a frown.

“Should I?” Renya said without emotion.

“Yes,” Leliana replied quietly. “Maybe there was a new cook, and she just forgot herself and messed up something so simple.”

“Forgot herself, did she?” Renya asked dryly. Leliana swallowed and nodded.

“Maybe she has a reputation as a bad cook, and was so worried about what people would think about her if she… cooked something wrong and hurt someone, that she just… threw in the first ingredients that came to mind and chose the most awful ones she could have, because she was so worried.” Maker, why was she still trying to talk behind this awful pudding metaphor? But Renya played along patiently.

“Maybe she should not live in the past so much.”

A long silence followed this.

“Maybe you’re right.” Leliana took a deep breath. “Maybe she shouldn’t be a cook at all. Maybe she’s too afraid of… scaring her customers away.”

“Scaring them away.” Skepticism was back in the elf’s voice.

“Well, no,” Leliana replied with a shake of her head. “Just… just one of them.”

Renya frowned but didn’t say anything.

Leliana’s heart was racing again. “We… we were in Denerim, yes? An important city, where all the important goings-on occur?” Her thoughts were flying. “Maybe,” she said, her voice getting very small. “She knew where she had come from, and the customer was important to her, and… and… Renya, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to say those things! I just meant…”

Renya held up a hand. “Atisha, Leliana,” she said with a sigh. The bard went silent, looking ashamed.

“Renya, I…”

“ _Atisha_ , Leliana,” the elf repeated with more force.

Leliana continued to walk along dejectedly, trying to not take heart when Renya kept walking next to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy...
> 
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	83. Dark Spiral

Renya lay down on her bedroll and closed her eyes as Leliana walked by. The bard sighed, thinking Renya was sleeping, and walked on without comment. Renya shook her head, keeping her eyes closed. She hated how bad she felt as she ignored Leliana, but forced herself to think of the pride in Leliana’s voice when they were on the balcony.

_“I was a bard; I am capable of completing a job without feelings getting involved and in the way, no matter what it looks like.”_

Her thoughts strayed to Marjolaine… Renya had said she trusted Leliana, out of hand. Did she truly?

Renya fell into a troubled sleep.

***

Leliana was patrolling the camp alone with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company. Marjolaine’s words kept echoing in her head, followed by her own uttered on the balcony. Had it really been a case of poorly chosen words, or had some part of her realized that Renya had protected her from Marjolaine, and…

“No,” she whispered to herself. “That’s not why you follow the Wardens. That’s not why you wish to see Renya looking at you, or why you…” She stopped talking abruptly. She would not speak her feelings aloud. She wouldn’t. Not when they hurt her so badly.

Leliana sighed. She thought of her time with Marjolaine; the bardmaster had been affectionate toward her, and Leliana had accepted the soft caresses and sweet kisses happily. And she had given her heart so willingly to the older woman, only to have it shattered. How could she now expect Renya to offer her heart to her, when – if she was honest with herself – hers was still in pieces? Leliana gave herself a little shake and realized how far from the center of camp she had wandered. A movement in the trees behind her grabbed her attention and she spun around, but a blade whistled past her ear and buried itself in a lone genlock’s head.

“Darkspawn!” Zevran cried. He looked at Leliana, who had spun around at his voice. “You are far from camp, my dear,” he commented, peering into the trees behind her. He glanced at her. “You are upset about the Warden, yes?”

Leliana frowned at turned back to the forest. “Do you see any more darkspawn?” she asked as she heard footsteps quickly approaching them from camp.

“I hear you murmur in your sleep that you are different,” Zevran continued.

“Are there more darkspawn or not?”

“Perhaps the difference is in the heart,” Zevran said as the others approached. When Leliana glared over her shoulder at him, he shrugged. “Unlike others, you actually have one, yes?”

“Where?” Alistair cried. “I don’t sense any…”

Renya was on his heels. She looked at Zevran questioningly. The Antivan pointed at the ground to the one lone genlock.

“Just the one?” Alistair asked, bewildered. “That’s odd. Usually they travel in, you know, packs…”

“Are either of you hurt?” Renya asked sharply, glancing between Zevran and Leliana.

“No, it was just the one. I came to relieve Leliana and noticed something in the trees,” Zevran said smoothly. He yanked his blade out of the darkspawn and carefully wiped the blood on its armor before resheathing it in his belt.

“Hm.” Renya closed her eyes. “I do not think there are any others here, do you, lethallin?”

Alistair sighed. “No. It’s concerning that there was only one, though…”

“Better one than one hundred,” Renya replied darkly. She turned to Zevran. “Will you be alright?”

“If you do not sense darkspawn nearby, I’m sure all will be quiet. I am more than a match for non-supernatural creatures,” Zevran replied winningly. Renya smiled and nodded.

“Goodnight, then.” She and Alistair turned and walked back toward the camp, where the others were standing, alert for an attack.

“Go to bed, Leliana,” Zevran said gently once the Wardens were gone. Leliana nodded and dejectedly followed the Wardens’ path back to camp.

She entered her tent. Two blue glints looked up at her. They blinked.

“That was exciting,” Nyviel said dryly. “I’m glad you’re alright. Goodnight.” And the elf flipped onto her side and closed her eyes.

“Where’s Renya?” Leliana asked a few silent moments later.

“It’s a small camp, Leliana,” Nyviel said unhelpfully.

“I just…”

“Go to sleep,” Nyviel advised. “She’ll still be cross in the morning.”

***

“Warden.”

“Yes, Sten?”

“I have a matter of some importance which I would like to discuss with you.” The qunari walked up next to her. Renya jogged to keep up with his long strides. Noticing this, Sten slowed a little.

“I have told you that I cannot return home. You never asked why.”

Renya nodded. “I figured you did not want me to pry, Sten.”

“I did not,” Sten agreed. “But you must know.”

“Okay. Go ahead.” Renya braced herself to find out that Sten was being hunted by his own people, or that he had a band of mercenaries chasing him through Ferelden. As if she needed more to deal with right now, she thought with an inward grumble.

“I have lost my sword.”

Renya glanced at the great two-handed sword strapped to Sten’s back. Noticing this, Sten shook his head.

“When a qunari becomes a member of the Beresaad, he is given a sword. It represents the warrior’s soul. But I fell in battle. The humans who took me in did not retrieve my sword. When I awoke, I became distressed. If a warrior returns without his sword, he is killed immediately, as he has lost his soul.” The giant sighed. “In my sorrow and rage… I killed them. I killed them all, for they had saved me only for me to be executed by my people.” He paused. “That is why I waited for my capture. I did not act as the qun commands and deserved my punishment.”

“Elgar’nan, Sten. That’s… very harsh.”

“It is not,” Sten said. “It is the way of the qun. Warriors must hold onto their souls, or they are no longer warriors… no longer followers of the qun.”

“…right.”

“I do not expect you to understand.”

“I understand that this is important to you. What can I do to help you? I doubt your commander will care to hear that I respect your skills as a warrior,” Renya said.

“He would not. I… hate to ask, as we have already done so much that has delayed our cause, but I must ask you to help me find my sword. My Asala. It is important for this to be returned to me. Only then can I return home.”

Renya took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Alright, Sten. I will do what I can.”

“I met a man at the mage tower. He said he found it, and sold it. When I demanded he give a name, he said he did not know. Even the merchants in the capitol city said they had not seen it. Are all humans so unhelpful?”

“Sometimes,” Renya answered before she could stop herself. “We will ask about it when we come across anyone trading armor or weapons, Sten. I will try to find your Asala.”

“Thank you. That is… more than you are obligated to do.”

“And less than I’m willing to do.”

Sten pondered this silently as they walked on.

***

“I hate the cold,” Nyviel commented to no one in particular a few days later.

“Me too,” Zevran agreed, hugging his cloak around himself as they walked. “Morrigan, how do you survive in such, ah, _unseasonable_ clothing?”

“Magic,” Morrigan replied, as if it was obvious, flipping the hood of her clock over her head as if to block out the image of Zevran looking at her.

“Ah, of course,” Zevran said courteously, his eyes twinkling. “Beautiful _and_ smart, a deadly combination.”

“Do not try and charm me.”

“Never!”

Renya was walking next to Alistair, glowering at the clouds in the sky. “If it snows again, this walk will become even more miserable. I wish we could all fit in Bodahn’s cart…”

“You aren’t warm?” Alistair asked. “I sort of think being in this armor is what it feels like to be a piece of lamb in a stew.”

“…what?”

“I’m very hot.”

“Yes, the armor is rather warm,” Renya agreed. “But I still do not like traveling in the cold. When I was with my clan, on days like today we would huddle in our aravels and just stay warm, not prance about and freeze our ears off.”

“Sounds cozy.”

Renya nodded. “It was. My… a friend of mine, Merrill, always felt strange when we would all be cramped in the aravels. I told her not to worry about it, because she and I were… so close, but she still did sometimes. Being the first, and all…” she added in a rush.

But Alistair smiled at his friend, glad to see she was in a better mood than she had been recently. “The two of you grew up together, too?” He held his breath; he hadn’t meant to bring up Tamlen, however indirectly.

But Renya was nodding. “She came to the clan when she had four years, because no one in the Sabrae had the gift of magic. I was supposed to, with my father having been a keeper himself, but…” She glanced at Alistair seriously. “I borrowed Merrill’s staff once when she was sleeping, and all I managed to do was to break my little toe from slamming the staff down on it by accident…”

The Wardens laughed as Renya mimed the story. The elf sobered quickly.

“But she didn’t have family in the clan, and… neither did I, not really. I had Ashalle and her son, but… Merrill and I always had each other. It was different.” She smiled sadly. “It was nice… Tamlen had a family to go back to, and I had...” She stopped talking abruptly, but Alistair didn’t seem to notice.

“You really miss them… her… all of them, I mean…”

“I do,” Renya said simply, looking sad. She nudged him, a ghost of a smile flitting across her face. “I have you now, though. That’s something.”

Alistair opened his mouth to respond, smiling.

“Small consolation,” Morrigan cut in before he could answer.

“Hey!” Alistair’s expression changed in an instant, becoming indignant.

“I am merely here to inquire if we will be stopping to camp this evening. The sun is getting quite low in the sky.”

“Maybe…” A tentative voice came from behind Alistiar. Leliana had walked up; the other Warden had loaned her his maps, and she was holding the book open in her hands. “Maybe closer to this area?” She indicated near a small town marked on the map, a little west of where they were.

“I have no interest in staying in a strange town,” Renya deadpanned. “Small towns always mean we are sleeping in our tents anyway, especially after the _good templar_ have made it clear we are not welcome.”

“You’re right. Let’s not even bother with going there,” Leliana amended quickly, scanning the pages again. The Warden grunted and shrugged.

“Let’s just find a clearer place than this,” Alistair interjected, taking the maps back from Leliana. He glanced at them, not really looking at the markings on the page. “Anything to get out of these dense woods.”

***

Renya lay in her bedroll hours later, feigning sleep and trying to not look as angry and hopeless and betrayed as she felt. She had asked Nyviel to finish the story of Garahel, and as Nyviel read the final pages she had regretted it very much.

_“And… Mak- creators, this is awful,” Nyviel murmured. Her eyes were darting back and forth as she read silently._

_“What?” Renya asked, her heart racing._

_“Garahel…” The younger elf looked at Renya with wide eyes. “He… he fell from his griffin as he slew the archdemon. He… he died.” She turned back to the book. “‘And the First Warden of Weisshaupt decreed that a statue be erected in Garahel’s honor. The craftsmen were proud to create the memorial for the elf who had saved the world, and lined the stone statue’s features with gold to forever honor the elf destined for greatness.’ Oh Renya…”_

_“It is fine, Nyviel. It will all be alright in the end,” Renya replied hollowly, not looking at her. “You will see.”_

She turned over and flipped her blanket to cover her again. Briefly, she felt angry at Duncan. At that moment, he seemed to Renya to be like every other shemlen, taking from the elves as was convenient. She could have died from the taint like Tamlen, or become a mindless darkspawn and not known the difference anymore. But he saved her just to end the Blight, fix a problem which shemlen ages ago had caused.

Sten’s heavy footsteps clomped by her as she made a mental list of all the reasons she hated shemlen.

For starters, they had killed her parents. Then, when she was a small fledgeling, they had killed two of her young friends in front of her when they had gone to collect elfroot in the woods. The only reason Renya had survived was because she could disappear into the trees better than any of the other little ones.

She traced her fingers down the scars on her arm that she received while trying to twist away from the big shemlen who had grabbed her. He had dug his nails in so hard he had ripped off some of her skin when she finally escaped. Ashalle had dried Renya’s tears and tried to hide her when some of the hunters came back to camp, carrying the small, lifeless bodies. She shuddered at the memory… _So much blood…_ Friends she had abandoned... Friends she couldn’t save… She had sworn never to run from a shemlen again after that.

There were the countless templar raids that left so many dead… Renya saw the innocent elf fleeing from his burning aravel, and Nolith… poor Ashalle had now lost both of her children. Renya’s hand went to the scars on her abdomen with a sigh. She had almost been killed, too, and horribly.

The Tevinters had enslaved her people, made an eluvian that had then killed Tamlen and almost killed her. Marjolaine’s spy had almost cut her ear off and then stabbed her. Leliana had used her to solve the problem of her past. She shook her head. And Morrigan, so quick to judge the bard, had sent her to kill Flemeth, conveniently forgetting to mention that the old woman could shapeshift into an enormous dragon.

And now, even Duncan had betrayed her; he had saved her from the taint only so she could die at a time more convenient for the humans. The elves only ever were brought out when humans needed them to fix the mess they had made; Garahel had been right. At least there was no chance of her falling from a griffin. She pushed away the thought of her falling to the earth as she rode on the back of the slain archdemon.

Was there _any_ shemlen that didn’t simply take from elves? For once, the more reasonable voice in her mind was silent, out-shouted by the angry thoughts in her head.

Sten’s stomping footsteps were replaced by the softer footfalls of Leliana. With a sigh, Renya flipped onto her other side and fell asleep concentrating on Elgar’s snores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whistle whistle*   
> ...Yeah... I'm terrible.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	84. Snapped

“Fen’harel can take you!” yelled Renya, rushing a group of bandits attacking a covered cart on the road. She noticed arrows whizzing past and nodded; Leliana had long ago regained her rhythm with a bow and arrow, and had already taken down two of the bandits by the time Renya, Alistair, and Zevran had reached the group.

“Lovely blade,” Zevran said conversationally as he blocked the one human’s blows. He stabbed him through his thin leather armor. “I won’t mind taking that from you at all.”

“Mamae! Mamae!”

Renya spun on her heel in time to see a little fledgeling being torn from her mother’s arms. Another elf, a male, lay crumpled on the ground in a pool of blood in front of them. She sprung at the offending human with a snarl, but a bolt of lightning streaked out of the sky and struck the human where he stood.

“Ma halam,” Nyviel growled, repeating something she had heard Renya say. “You are finished.”

The fight was a whirlwind of blades and yelled curses. Before she could process what had happened, Renya found herself pinned to the ground by two of the humans, a knife to her throat. The battle stopped.

“Renya!”

“You blasted knife-ears,” the human with the knife hissed. “You need to always be reminded your place, don’t you?”

Renya bared her teeth at him, eyes flashing.

He chuckled. “Underneath me. Like she was,” he leered at the elf holding her fledgeling and sobbing into her hair. The man turned back to the Warden. “Should be underneath every human in Ferelden. Stand back,” he added sharply, glancing up as Alistair tried to advance. He pressed the knife a little harder into Renya’s neck. Alistair froze. He glanced toward Leliana, but the bard had been knocked down as well, Renya’s bow thrown a distance away from her.

“Just remember, knife-ear,” he said. He climbed on top of her, straddling her hips. “Elves are only good when they’re serving humans. That’s all you’re good for. Everything you do should be for our benefit,” he breathed, leaning in close to her.

“Len’alas lath’din,” Renya rasped out.

“I’ll let you go,” the man said now, ignoring her. “You’ll just have to beg me.”

Renya glared at him, and then spat in his eye. He jerked away reflexively, and Renya took that moment to twist violently, kicking one of the men holding her. With a cry he writhed away, and soon the elf was up again. She heard a shout from one of her companions, but paid it no mind as she pulled her hunting knife from her belt, her swords having been taken from her.

Leliana sighed in relief when she saw the man holding her knocked away by a bolt of energy. She jumped to her feet and her eyes met Morrigan’s. The apostate was looking at her with a curious expression, staff pointed at where the man had been standing, but she threw something at Leliana that she instinctively caught. Renya’s bow. She fit an arrow as quickly as possible and took aim, but then paused.

Leliana watched as Renya killed the two men who had been holding her down with quick stabs. In horror, she saw the elf knock the other man to his knees and bring her Dalish axe to his neck.

“Please… don’t hurt me,” the man said, raising his arms out and dropping his knife.

“Everything I do should be for your benefit,” Renya said evenly. The man looked hopeful for a moment. “You would benefit from this.”

Renya swung the axe with a ferocious expression, but Leliana looked away before it made contact with the man’s neck.

“I am not here for your benefit, seth’lin,” Renya spat as the man’s body fell to the ground in front of her. She wiped the axe off and returned it to her belt.

She gathered her weapons and approached the terrified elves still standing by their cart. Nyviel and Wynne were crouched over the fallen elf.

Wynne stood, shaking her head sadly. Nyviel remained kneeling where she was, and looked up at Renya’s approach. Her expression was carefully guarded.

“My husband…” the strange elf sobbed. “If only we had never come this way…”

“Ir abelas, ma’vhenan,” Renya said with surprising gentleness, considering she was covered in human blood.

“Where are you from?” Wynne asked.

A sigh. “Not too far from here. We were on an errand and…” She sighed again. “We must go back… And…” She looked down at her husband’s body. “He was trying to save us, but there were so many…”

No one objected when Renya offered to escort them back to their home. The cart was packed with the goods that the bandits had tried to steal, and they wrapped the elf in some spare canvas from the cart.

“Seth’lin shemlen,” Renya muttered darkly when they were under way again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us and access extra video-game related thoughts [here](https://www.patreon.com/AmbiGamingCorner) if you're really feeling generous!


	85. What Happened After

“Warden.”

“Hello, Morrigan,” Renya said, taking a breath and rousing herself from her meditation.

“May we speak?”

“Of course,” the elf replied with interest. It wasn’t like Morrigan to initiate a conversation. The witch sat down next to her on her bedroll.

“I have… noticed an interesting change in you.”

“Studying me again, were you?”

The apostate smiled. “I am always studying you. You told me to alert you should I find something interesting. This has been of great interest to me.”

“Okay, Morrigan. I am listening.”

“Your usual diplomacy seems to have disappeared as of late,” Morrigan stated without preamble. “This ferocity is strange to see on you.”

Renya stayed silent.

“You killed many humans when you lived with the Dalish, did you not?”

The elf sighed. “It depended on the situation. If they attacked…” Considering, she added, “I have in fact killed many, many humans in my life.”

“Yet you have stayed your hand much more than I would have expected during this venture, being Dalish,” the witch said with interest.

“I have.” Renya frowned.

“But something has changed.”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“I wish to know.”

Renya shook her head. “I am tired of being used by humans.” She sighed and rubbed her vallaslin. Morrigan’s eyes narrowed at the elf’s comment. Renya shook her head and looked at the witch seriously. “My whole life, we were hunted, tortured, killed… and then I was saved from the taint to become a Grey Warden… to serve the humans and fix their problems. A final insult.”

Morrigan sat silently for a long time. Renya began twisting the ring on her finger.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“That ring. You twist it often. And you have started doing it moreso, recently.”

“It…” Renya faltered. “It was a gift from the hahren, the keeper of my clan. She gave it to me… to remind me of my Dalish heritage.”

“As if you would forget?” Morrigan asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

Renya managed a chuckle. “No, Morrigan. She gave it to me after I agreed to follow Duncan… To offer protection, and as a rememberance…”

“I didn’t realize you agreed to become a Warden,” the witch said with interest. “I was under the impression you had no choice.”

“I… I did not. It was the will of the clan.” Her eyebrows twitched together thoughtfully. “But I suppose there is always a choice, isn’t there? Duncan could have dragged me kicking and screaming to Ostegar.”

“Hm.”

A pause.

“Do you truly believe that?” Morrigan was frowning now.

“About Duncan dragging me to Ostegar?”

“About having a choice.”

“I am not sure anymore. You do not?”

“Why should I?” the witch asked airily, straightening the feathers on her shoulder-guard.

“You could have chosen many things along this journey. You could have chosen to confront Flemeth, chosen to abandon us, chosen to lie to me, and yet you have not,” Renya replied with a shrug.

“We are not speaking of me,” Morrigan said after a very long pause. “If this new personality of yours is going to be permanent, Warden, I suggest you stop discussing this matter with me and tell me to leave you to your business.”

“Ma nuvenin,” Renya said with a sigh, recognizing that the witch didn’t want to talk anymore. She and Morrigan continued to sit next to each other, both staring unseeing at the path in front of them as they pursued their own thoughts.

***

Leliana sighed.

“Something wrong, Leliana?” Nyviel mumbled into her arm from the other side of the tent. She turned onto her back and looked over at the bard. “You’ve been sighing for the better part of an hour.”

Leliana shook her head. Renya’s ferocious expression as she decapitated the unarmed human kneeling in front of her had been haunting her.

“Ma nuvenin,” Nyviel replied with a little shrug before turning back onto her side.

“She… she just killed him. Like it meant nothing.”

Nyviel rolled back to face Leliana without comment.

Leliana sat up, staring at the flap of the tent. “She… he was unarmed. He had surrendered. And she killed him.”

Nyviel nodded slightly. It had been terrifying to watch, and unexpected, but…

“He was hardly innocent, Leliana.”

“But… he…” Leliana gave herself a little shake. “Perhaps Dalish really are…” She paused, but then plowed on. “Perhaps they are as vicious as the tales tell.”

Nyviel didn’t respond.

“She has killed humans in her forest, and… and this…”

“Are you trying to make yourself feel better about what happened at the inn?”

“No!” Leliana replied angrily. “Does it not bother you that Renya _murdered_ an unarmed man? And feels no remorse?”

The elf sighed and sat up. “I didn’t say that.” Silence fell in the tent as she thought. “It was terrible, seeing her do that. Seeing her _like_ that.” She sighed again, feeling a little disappointed at the idea that maybe Renya wasn’t the unwavering, perfect hero she thought her to be. “Maybe she _has_ killed many humans. We don’t know what her life with the Dalish was like. Maybe to her, he was just another human who had attacked elves.”

“She is a Grey Warden,” Leliana said indignantly.

“She is a Dalish hunter,” Nyviel countered quietly.

Another short silence fell. Leliana shivered and tucked herself back into her bedroll.

“Well,” she finally said, keeping the hurt from her voice. “I will not keep you from your rest. You have watch tonight, don’t you? Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” As Nyviel flipped back onto her side, shaking her head a little, she heard another sigh escape the bard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to say that these are some of my favorite interactions between these characters.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	86. Good and Evil

Renya startled awake. She glanced over to where Alistair was lying, and noted that he was staring into the dying fire, unseeing and lost in thought. Apparently his dreams were troubling him, too. With a resigned shake of her head, Renya dug in her pack for the book about Garahel the elf. She hoped Nyviel would read it to her again, maybe during her watch tonight. Maybe she would learn something from his story that she had missed the first time around about stopping the Blight.

As she rooted around for it, her hand brushed against a piece of paper. She pulled it out and unfolded it. Handwritten words adorned the paper in a very uniform and pleasing manner, and as Renya scanned the delicate symbols she noticed that the symbol for the Arl of Redcliffe was printed on the top of the page. She stared at the paper and thought about asking someone to read it to her, but eventually decided against it. Obviously, whoever had stuffed this into her bag didn’t realize Dalish hunters were not taught to read, but they had wanted to get a message to her without the others knowing about it. She glanced back at Alistair; he was the other Grey Warden, after all. But he had fallen back into a peaceful sleep and she felt bad waking him.

 _And anyway,_ she considered. _Maybe whoever slipped this into my pack hadn’t meant for him to see it. Surely a human would pass a note to another human over an elf._ Arching an eyebrow, she pulled out the story of Garahel and set to work.

Renya was up late into the night, nodding to Morrigan, Nyviel, and Sten in turn as their watches began and ended. The paper from Redcliffe was pressed open, and Renya was studying her book furiously. She had begged a wound graphite pencil and some blank paper off of Nyviel and was copying lines of symbols from the book onto the paper, underlining some of them when they matched the symbols on the paper and numbering each line with the Elvhen symbols Merrill had shown her when they were little.

Another day of walking came and went, and as soon as the evening meal was completed Renya sought out Nyviel again. She pulled out the paper she had meticulously written on the night before and asked her to read each of the lines.

“Are you teaching yourself to write?” Nyviel asked with some interest, glad to see a hint of Renya’s familiar curiosity return. Renya shrugged, ignoring Leliana’s jealous eyes and guilty expression.

“In a way, yes,” Renya said vaguely. “Now read what this one says, again twice. And do not forget to point to the words…”

***

Alistair’s watch was was over and Nyviel was about halfway through hers when Renya finally picked her head up from her papers. After meeting with the younger elf, Renya had begun painstakingly matching the underlined symbols of the copied lines to the paper from Redcliffe, often asking Nyviel to read the sentences to her again when she forgot what the words were.

Nyviel had then decided to teach Renya something she had called “the alphabet,” so Renya could remember what sounds went with which symbols. They had spent a lot of time between watches over the next few days huddled close to the dying fire as Nyviel patiently went over the symbols and pushed Renya to read from a (very boring) book of herbology that she had brought with her from the tower.

Now, she blinked, trying to remember what each of the symbols stood for. Hopefully she would be able to figure out what the note said, now, and address the problem. She carefully smoothed the paper and began reading slowly, whispering the words and tracing her finger beneath them as she went.

“In the dark the shadows lie,  
The moon is rising so.  
As the lights fade from the sky  
We are called and we must go.

But shining brightly in the night  
Although I know not how  
Shines a beacon for good and right.  
The darkness, it will not allow.

I watch her dance with swirling grace,  
Forbidden for all of time.  
She gives defense to every race  
And yet leaves time for mine.

Her eyes pierce through the dark and drear.  
Her footsteps never waver.  
With her at my side I’ve naught to fear.  
For I know that I am safer.

She sees into the fog that fills my past.  
She never once did falter.  
With knives and wit both sharp and fast  
I know she will be stronger.

With hope and prayers and dreams  
So piercing like a knife  
One day I hope to have her,  
And have her all my life.”

Renya sat up, exhausted by the time she finished murmuring out the poem to herself. It wasn’t exactly a secret note from Redcliffe, but Renya wondered why someone would slip a piece of poetry into her pack.

Reading through it again, Renya saw another word written at the bottom that she didn’t recognize. She sighed, but began to apply Nyviel’s latest reading method to this new word: trying to match pieces of the word – those little things that Nyviel had called “letters” – and making the sound of each letter as she found it.

“…’Ll’…” she hummed, putting one finger on the letter of the unknown word and another on the same symbol on the alphabet Nyviel had written down for her. “‘Ee’… another ‘ll’…’aye’…”

A few minutes later, Renya tried sounding out the word.

“Ll…ee…ll…aye…ah…nn…ah…” she whispered, pleased with herself for sounding out the word. She tilted her head when she realized what that word had sounded like, even though it wasn’t exactly how that word was usually pronounced. Blinking, she read the word again, a little faster this time. “L-eh-l-ee-ana.” She frowned. “Lel-ee…ana.” Another blink. “Leliana?”

She was at the bard’s tent in half a second, throwing open the flap and entering without first asking permission. Leliana had been sleeping, and jolted awake at the sudden noise of the flap opening and shutting. She saw two narrowed green glints peering at her.

“Renya?” she exclaimed, sitting up and hugging her blankets to herself. It had been almost three weeks since Renya had spoken to her. The elf crouched down next to her.

“What is this?” she demanded.

“What is what? You know I can’t see well in the dark,” Leliana said with confusion.

“This.”

Leliana felt a piece of paper thrust into her hand. She tried not to sigh.

“I’m sorry, Renya. But I still can’t see this in the dark.” The paper was taken away from her.

“It has your name on it,” Renya said with force. “Listen.”

She read the poem. As Leliana listened to Renya laboriously slog through the words, she felt a mixture of emotions battling for supremacy: surprise and pleasure at the effort the elf must have gone through to read the poem, confusion as to why she had even tried to read it at all, and embarrassment that now was when Renya had found it. She had meant for her to find it under somewhat better circumstances, to say the least.

“So… what is this?” Renya said when she had read the last word. “Leliana?” she asked when the bard didn’t answer.

“A… poem I-I wrote,” she replied.

“You put it in my pack.”

“…I did.”

“You wanted me to see it.”

“…I did.” More hesitation this time.

Renya sighed, guilt squeezing her heart. “Are you feeling better about what happened with Marjolaine?”

“What?”

“Marjolaine. Are you feeling better?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

“You… seemed bothered by it,” Renya said stiffly. “You also said you would want to talk about it later. This is later. Isn’t it?”

Leliana sighed in exasperation and crossed her arms, not caring if Renya could see her or not. This elf was the only person she ever felt wrong-footed around; everyone else she encountered she was able to read and understand. She shook her head. But Renya was different. She could never stay ahead of the elf and... Her heart beat a little faster as she thought that she didn’t care, she just wanted… her. Nothing else: no manipulation, no gain, just… Renya. The thought was terrifying and wonderful all at the same time.

“Leliana?” the elf clipped now. “Do you not want to talk about this?”

“I-I do,” Leliana said, surprised that she meant it. She sat up a little straighter and heard Renya sit next to her. Silence filled the tent.

“Leliana?” The voice was gentler this time.

The bard took a deep breath. “Yes… I am feeling a little better. I’ve just been thinking about what Marjolaine said, that she and I are the same. Maybe she is right. Maybe we are the same, and I cannot help who I am and what I do. Maybe I am doomed to the life of a bard, a life of manipulation and death and loneliness… Maker, why do I always babble? Even when you are mad at me, you are easy to talk to…” she finished awkwardly, staring down at her lap. She began subconsiously twisting her fingers when Renya didn’t respond right away.

“You are not babbling. Keep talking.”

Leliana nodded, noting that Renya hadn’t said she wasn’t mad but continuing anyway. “I… there is a certain thrill of the hunt, no? Of having power? Yes, this is something that everyone desires: power. Except you, of course…” She twisted her fingers more energetically.

“But this is wrong, isn’t it? To enjoy… killing things? Manipulating people for your gains? Yes, this is wrong, yet the thrill of it still lives inside my heart…” She wished she could stop, but couldn’t. Renya interrupted her.

“This bothers you,” she observed.

“Well, yes,” Leliana said, sounding a little offended.

“Does it bother her?”

Leliana shook her head. “No. Of course not. But it didn’t used to bother me, either.”

“But it does now.”

“…yes.”

“You now worry if you are doing evil out of habit.”

Leliana swallowed. Renya’s tone was gentle, but her words cut deeply. Nyviel had said something similar, after all…

“I do,” she whispered. She looked up when Renya grabbed her hand and traced one of the bard’s fingers down the scar on her cheek.

“Did she care about the harm she caused?”

“No.” Leliana’s voice caught.

“Did she care how badly she was going to hurt you?”

“…no.”

“Do darkspawn care of their destruction?”

“No.”

“Did Loghain’s men, in Lothering, care that they were going to murder an innocent Shantri sister, just to get to the Grey Wardens?”

“…no.”

“Did Marjolaine ever care that she was hurting anyone?” Renya asked. She held up a hand to silence anything Leliana was about to say. “She tried to upset you. She tried to turn me against you, because she knew that would hurt you. Did she care?”

A long silence followed this.

“…no,” finally came Leliana’s whisper.

“Only good worries about its actions.” Renya sighed. “Evil does not care.”

Leliana was silent a long time.

“My decisions have brought me here.” Renya looked at Leliana seriously. “Good and bad. You choose what you want to be, Leliana. If you do not wish to be like Marjolaine, you will not be like her.”

“Do you… really believe that?” Leliana asked with a moderate amount of disbelief, still refusing to be placated. “No one else seems to think that.” She took a deep breath. “Even you doubt me at times…”

“We all make choices, Leliana,” Renya said firmly. “You have the freedom to make those decisions, too.”

“But… even my faith in the Maker,” Leliana continued wretchedly. “How do I know it is not all false, all made up in a desperate attempt to be something I am not?”

“How _do_ you know? Have you made it all up?” Renya’s voice was very soft.

“No,” Leliana answered indignantly. Realization passed over her features and her throat grew tight, hearing the Dalish elf, the one the Chantry called heathen, the one _she_ had called vicious, quietly defend Leliana’s faith – a faith that had hurt so many elves – to her.

“You know what you believe, yes? Can anyone else make that untrue?”

Leliana’s swallowed the lump that formed as Renya echoed her words.

“No,” she whispered back.

Leliana’s throat was still constricted and her breathing was fast. A warm hand was placed on her shoulder and she heard Renya sigh.

“She was very special to you, wasn’t she?”

Leliana nodded. “Yes, very much. I thought I loved her… I did love her. We had such wonderful times together, once. She was lighthearted, and she loved music.” She smiled sadly. “And she had a weakness for sugary cakes. But I do not know… maybe she was lying to herself about who she was, or maybe… maybe people change.” She sat thoughtfully for a few minutes.

Renya took a deep breath, Marjolaine’s words echoing in her mind. The images of her bribing the man in Denerim and killing the bandit in the woods danced in front of her eyes again. And Leliana had said she was frightened and that she couldn’t do “this.” Perhaps…

“Am I anything like her?”

A long and deep silence fell in the tent. Finally Leliana looked up, seeking out the green glints hovering next to her.

“Yes,” she whispered. Renya looked away.

But Leliana continued. “You are like how I used to see her: so confident, self-assured. A… a joy to be around, a constant companion, and a listening ear in times of need. Your movements are graceful and have purpose, and you take care of those close to you. And you have a temper…” she added with a little humor. She couldn’t see Renya’s expression but judged from the light cough that Renya had suppressed a little chuckle of assent. Leliana’s mind flit to the clearing a few weeks prior.

“Did it bother you?”

“Did what bother me?”

“Killing him. That man.”

A long silence fell.

Finally Renya sighed. “I was angry. So much was going wrong, and he had…with that elven woman… No,” she said shortly. “It does not bother me.”

Another long pause. Leliana shivered.

Renya sighed again, deeper this time. “Yes. I killed an unarmed man. Yes, Leliana. It bothers me.”

 _“Only good worries about its actions,”_ echoed Renya’s voice in Leliana’s mind. She sat a little straighter, feeling a little better, although she couldn’t say why. Renya sat next to her, looking at the ground silently.

“You were angry,” Leliana said softly, tentatively taking Renya’s hand and smiling when she felt warm fingers interlace with hers. "He had hurt elves. You went back to what you knew.”

Renya sighed again but didn’t comment.

“You asked me if you were like Marjolaine,” Leliana continued. Renya looked up at her with a carefully guarded expression. “And there are parts of you that are. But you are not like her in a way, too. You genuinely care for others, for m-me, and that is what is so frightening…” She stopped talking before she told Renya how terrified she was of falling in love with someone like her old bardmaster. The pressure on her fingers increased.

“You do not need to worry,” Renya said quietly. “I am not Marjolaine.”

“I know.”

“I will not betray you.”

A pause. “…I know.” Leliana’s voice was getting quieter and quieter.

Renya pulsed her jaw once, her heart racing. “I do not think you are… are broken,” she said carefully, repeating the word that had tormented Leliana in her nightmare.

A long silence followed this statement. “Thank you.” Leliana took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she said more quietly. Another long pause. “It is so comforting to know that you are there for me, no matter what. I know you are nearby as I fall asleep, and you are the first to bid me good morning when I wake up. No matter what, you stay by my side. Renya… I… I…”

“You do not need to say anything, Leliana…”

“No more secrets between us,” Leliana said sharply. Her heart fluttered; she had never trusted someone like this before, after all.

“No more secrets between us,” Renya agreed, a little bubble of guilt forming in her chest. _Not now. Now is not the time…_

Leliana paused, still feeling a little frightened, but she finally nodded. She would trust Renya. Maker, she would.

“It will be okay,” Renya assured her. Leliana nodded.

“I know, Renya. I know that. And I thank the Maker that it is you who is saying that to me.”

The hand slid out of Leliana’s.

“Goodnight,” the elf said as she began to rise. But Leliana grabbed her hand as it began to disappear.

“Renya…”

Leliana threw her arms around the elf and pulled her close, burying her face in the elf’s neck and bidding herself to not cry as Renya hugged her back. She loved and was scared of the comfort gleaned from Renya’s nearness, and pulled herself closer.

Renya allowed herself to be pulled into a hug and held tightly. The elf felt Leliana smile against her cheek, most likely pleased that Renya hadn’t pulled away at the contact. She gently rubbed Leliana’s cheek with her own as thoughts of Leliana’s blue eyes, kind smile, and soft lips filled her mind. _Honorable Dalish…human bonding… disgrace to the Elvhen…end the Blight._

 _She’s human,_ Renya reminded herself firmly.

But Leliana was sitting up, groping for Renya’s hand again. How could she possibly tell Renya she was still afraid of the shadows in her mind, and that part of her worried that the shadows would become reality once again? But that, in Renya’s arms, she felt safe from all that? She wasn’t sure which thought terrified her more.

Renya, however, didn’t seem to be searching for any explanations. She picked up the bard’s cold hands and warmed them between her own, trying not to smile at Leliana’s happy sigh. They sat quietly for a few minutes. Renya looked up toward the side of the tent, listening, her head slightly tilted to one side.

“It is my watch.” She took a steadying breath. “Sleep well.” Her hands slipped from Leliana’s and she disappeared out of the tent with hardly a sound. Leliana sighed, but then smiled again when she heard Elgar snuffling around her tent before lying down outside the flap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. So... everything with Renya is resolved now, right??
> 
>  
> 
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	87. Kick and Trust

They reached a small village the following midday. A slight altercation occurred in one of the shops as Renya tried to purchase supplies but the man behind the counter refused to sell to a “knife-ear.” To Renya’s credit, she had argued with the man and taken his abuse for close to five minutes before drawing her knife. The man had drawn a blade of his own, and Alistair had responded by grabbing Renya around her middle and dragging her out of the shop. She stood fuming next to Nyviel and Morrigan as Alistair explained to Wynne and Leliana what had happened.

“Maybe we could have better luck?” Wynne suggested with a disapproving shake of her head at the door of the shop.

“Do we need the supplies that badly?” Leliana asked, offended for Renya’s sake.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Alistair said with a sigh. “Hunting has been poor lately, and we need food to get us either to the Dalish camps or to Orzammar. Which we also need to talk about,” he added as an aside, glancing toward Renya.

“Supplies first, then?” Wynne said gently. She turned and walked toward the shop and Leliana followed, taking the money Alistair offered to her and smiling at Renya as she walked away. Renya nodded to her as she left, her face unreadable.

“So you and the Chantry girl have made up, I see?” Morrigan asked when they were out of earshot. Renya looked at her.

“Very interested, are you?” But she managed a smile. “I no longer regret not leaving her in Denerim when we were last there, yes.”

“How unfortunate.”

“You really do not like her, do you?”

“No,” Morrigan said bluntly. “She wears many faces, and has not decided which one is truly hers. Her past is… interesting, I suppose,” she allowed with a shrug. “And I’m sure she provides much idle amusement.”

“She tells stories well, yes. And she sings.”

Nyviel suppressed a smile as the witch rolled her eyes.

“Yes. ‘Tis exactly what I was speaking of,” she commented dryly. “You are my friend, and I will not lose you to the wiles of some deceptive girl.”

Renya looked at her seriously, touched at Morrigan’s caring. “Thank you, lethallan.” She shot the apostate mischievous look. “Jealous, are you?”

“Oh yes,” Morrigan replied sarcastically. “Green with envy, am I…”

“I thought so.”

“Warden.” Sten had walked up to them. “I do not understand why you would engage in such matters. It will cloud your mind and prevent you from thinking clearly in battle.”

Renya shook her head and Sten watched her gravely. Elgar barked happily and wagged his tail as Wynne and Leliana walked out of the store with armloads of food supplies. Leliana slipped the mabari something and he woofed at her before devouring whatever had been in her hand.

“This may impact your ability to lead the group,” Sten continued, ignoring the appearance of the two women.

“It will not,” she assured him. He looked at her doubtfully. Instantly she was annoyed. She had come so far and had made so many decisions along the way, often without help or support, and now her ability to lead was being questioned because she thought Leliana was beautiful? Ignoring the last part of her thought, Renya frowned up at the very tall qunari.

“Perhaps we need a leader who does not lose focus to such… trivialities.”

“You think I have lost focus?” Renya said with a frown. “What would soothe your mind, Sten? Shall we duel and see who is indeed better suited to lead this venture?” she snipped sarcastically.

“It seems this might be the best course of action,” Sten replied, drawing his great sword. Renya followed his lead reluctantly and pulled out her longsword and her dar’misu. She really hadn't wanted to fight him.

“I don’t think that this is necessary,” Wynne commented, holding up a hand between the two warriors, who were now glaring at each other.

“We mustn’t fight amongst ourselves,” Leliana added. “There are few of us, and many trials and darkspawn ahead of us. We must be united.”

“I find I agree with the Chantry sister,” Morrigan said, surprising the rest of the party. “Must we choose a leader by force? The Warden has gotten us this far.”

Alistair looked at both Sten and Renya nervously. “We are fighting a Blight,” he said slowly. “And, truly, the Wardens bear this responsibility alone, Sten.”

“If you do not like my leadership,” Renya said, gripping her blades tightly. “You are free to go. Return to your people without your Asala.”

“You would send me to my death?”

“I _would_ find your sword for you. But I _will_ do what it takes to end this Blight. And allowing you to take over this venture will not accomplish this,” Renya said, re-sheathing her blades and resting her hands on their hilts with forced calm. Sten considered her before putting his sword away.

“I will do as you ask and fulfill my promise to follow you to the end of the Blight,” he said after a very long pause.

“Thank you.”

Sten grunted.

“Anyone for the midday meal?” Zevran piped in now, pointing at a small building that looked like a tavern.

“Yes,” Alistair and Renya said together.

***

“Absolutely not,” the barmaster said. He was staring past Alistair and Wynne at the collection of elves, mages, and qunari standing behind them. “No tables available.”

“There’s plenty of room!” Alistair argued, indicating the almost-empty building with a sweep of his hand. But the burly man simply crossed his arms in front of him and shook his head.

“Excuse me,” said a thick Orlesian accent. Leliana had placed herself a little away from the rest of the group and was now leaning alluringly on the bar, the small cut in the front of her armor clearly visible. Renya shook her head, but managed a small smile nonetheless.

The barmaster walked over to her. “Yes, miss?”

Leliana smiled at him, crossing her legs and leaning further onto the bar. “I don’t seem to understand,” she said, her accent thicker than Renya remembered it being. It made the words sound… Renya didn’t dare say the word “enchanting” to herself.

“What’s that?” the man said, determinedly staring at her eyes.

“You seem like a very intelligent businessman,” she said thoughtfully, tilting her head. “And a very well-outfit group of potential patrons has entered your bar.” She let the statement hang.

“You are traveling with knife-ears, miss. And that… thing,” he said, glancing at Sten.

“Bas,” the qunari muttered darkly. Renya silently agreed with him, not knowing what the word meant.

“And all with coin ready to be spent,” Leliana said smoothly. “Surely we can work something out?”

“You… you _work_ for them?”

Leliana paused, but only for a fraction of a second. If she said yes, she would lose credibility, the man would no longer want to speak with her, and their chance would be lost. But… how far to go with Renya standing right there?

“No, no, not at all. I am… orchestrating this,” she said vaguely, indicating empty air beside her with an elegant wave of her hand. The gesture was in the general direction of… possibly the bar, or her companions, or a group of people near her that she had never met.

The man didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he looked impressed. He leaned on the counter, finally letting his eyes take in her figure. Renya pulsed her jaw but she forced herself to relax.

“I like a woman with a little… edge to her,” the barman said with a half-smile. Leliana nodded, noticing Renya’s eyes on her. She saw the tan-line on the man’s finger where a wedding ring used to sit.

“What else do you like?” Leliana purred, leaning in and placing her hand on the counter. The man’s eyebrows shot upward.

“I… I am married,” he said, his voice quiet as he glanced over his shoulder.

“Of course,” Leliana said with some disappointment, pulling back and dragging her hand away. He quickly put his hand next to hers to stop her and tilted his head toward her. Out of the side of her eye, Leliana saw the kitchen door close slightly, concealing the face that had been there a moment before.

“What… what was it that you wanted, miss?” He licked his lips as he focused on the cut in the bard’s armor, which, with how she was standing, was displaying a nice amount of cleavage.

Renya saw Nyviel shoot her a look, and she glanced back with a curt shake her head. Leliana was laughing musically at the man’s comment, and he gave a crooked grin at the sound.

“Perhaps a table? I have traveled a long way, and am… very weary,” she said with a sultry smile.

The man swallowed and forced his eyes back up to meet hers. “Alright, alright. Pick any table you want. I’ll send someone right over.”

“Thank you, ser,” Leliana said politely, and she swished away.

They sat, and Leliana caught Renya’s eye. She looked away, ashamed at the thrill she felt at manipulating the man. A calloused hand grabbed hers under the table and squeezed it briefly before disappearing again, and Leliana glanced back up at the Warden. The elf nodded at her and then began speaking with Zevran across the table.

“So the stories of Orlesian bards are true, then” Alistair commented, sitting on Renya’s other side.

_Again?_ thought Leliana wearily. Out loud, she said, “What stories? There are many. They are quite famous, after all.” She tore her eyes from the side of Renya’s face.

“Oh, you know. The really _racy_ ones. Beautiful women seducing men for their own gain and then slitting their throats at the height of passion,” Alistair said. He didn’t notice Renya’s lips press into a thin line.

“Yes, at times that happened, but I did try to use non-lethal means as much as possible…” Leliana said carefully, wishing there was some other way for her to answer the question. She eyed Alistair. “But tell me that isn’t a good death – staring into the eyes of a beautiful woman.” She held his gaze until he cleared his throat and looked away, uncomfortable.

Leliana chuckled, hoping she had been able to successfully salvage a potentially dangerous conversation. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Renya watching Alistair with a small smile playing on her lips.

“Nothing like it,” Zevran agreed, his eyes twinkling. “I would love to hear of some of your exploits, Leliana. You must have some fantastic stories of Orlesian, ahem, merriment.”

Leliana took a deep breath. “Let’s just say that I had plenty of reasons to join the Chantry and leave it at that, hm?”

A young woman came up at that moment with a basket of bread, some cooked meat, and a few flagons of watery ale.

“This is…” Zevran said with a disgusted face after taking a drink.

“Awful,” Morrigan supplied, her expression matching his.

Renya took a sip and spluttered it out, as well. She stared at the drink as if it had personally offended her.

The food wasn’t much better, but that didn’t stop both Alistair and Renya from managing two helpings before deciding to stop.

“I don’t think Grey Wardens are immune to food poisoning,” Alistair said. He looked down at the food still on his plate as his stomach rumbled. “Pity, really.”

Renya shook her head. If she was with her clan, they would have already arrived at the Free Marches, where they would have still been able to hunt. At least the food would be fresh. She was pulled from her thoughts by the heavy footsteps of the barman.

“Are you enjoying your meal, miss?” he asked jovially, standing behind Leliana’s chair. He put one of his feet up on the supports. Even Alistair raised an eyebrow at his action.

Leliana, for her part, seemed perfectly comfortable with the situation. Renya took a deep breath, forcing herself to remember that Leliana was a bard and could handle herself.

“Yes. But,” she said, frowning a little. “I am wondering at the ale… I think one of your workers is watering it down...”

The man turned red; Renya suspected he knew the state of the ale and food at his tavern.

“That so?” he said gruffly. “I’ll go find you something else to drink then. And maybe…” He eyed the food and sighed.

“I’d be very thankful,” Leliana said with a smile. The man stomped away and came back minutes later with a pitcher of beer, fresh bread, and some cheese.

“From my own stores,” he said proudly. “Only don’t go telling anyone else, okay?” he added conspiratorially. Leliana shook her head solemnly.

“Of course not,” she said, trying to suppress her grin as Renya and Alistair unceremoniously dug in.

“Mu’ beh’er,” Alistair said contendedly through a mouthful of bread and cheese.

“Ma serannas,” Renya commented to Leliana when she had swallowed. Morrigan had helped herself to some beer and was tasting it gingerly before taking a drink of it and nodding.

Wynne shook her head in wonder at the barmaster as he walked away, then looked at Leliana kindly. “You certainly know your way around this type of thing, I’ll give you that,” she said, taking a piece of the steaming bread.

“Thank you,” Leliana replied politely, quietly refilling Renya’s plate.

“Serannas,” Renya murmured.

They ate in silence; soon all the bread and cheese – and most of the beer – was gone, and the companions were sitting back in their chairs contentedly.

The man came back a few minutes later. “Better?” he asked, putting his foot on the bottom of Leliana’s chair again and resting his hand on its back.

“Yes, thank you so much,” the bard replied. She felt the man slip his hand onto her shoulder and took a breath.

“So,” he said, leaning in. His breath smelled like the bad ale they had first tried to drink with their meal. “If you’ve been traveling as long as you’ve said, you must want a room or two?” He glanced around at the party, now all deathly still, watching the man and Leliana. Leliana glanced at Renya, who shook her head imperceptibly while knowing Leliana would not accept the offer.

“That is very kind of you…” Leliana began. The grip on her shoulder tightened.

Renya grabbed her knife, but Leliana kicked her under the table and she released it with a brief frown.

“At least let me show you what we have available,” he said. Leliana noticed a small movement outside one of the doors by the kitchen again, and decided to do something very risky. She stood and faced the man.

“Available?” she asked innocently. Placing her hand delicately on the man’s chest, she leaned in. “What if your wife finds us?” she breathed, glancing around nervously. The man’s chest tightened at her touch and his breathing became rapid.

“Oh, she won’t suspect a thing. One of the rooms is very secluded, and she’s busy in the kitchen…” he said covering her hand with his before taking it off his chest and holding it. She put her other hand on his shoulder and stepped a little closer, silently apologizing to Renya. If she had miscalculated, she might have to do something that she was sure would cause Renya to murder the man, and possibly her as well.

“Are you sure?” Leliana asked, trying to sound flirtatious and vulnerable while simultaneously buying more time.

“Yes…” the man said, starting to back away, pulling Leliana with him.

Renya, please forgive me…

She stepped forward suddenly, startling the man, and stood on her toes, stopping a few breaths away from his lips. The sound of a chair scraping on wood let Leliana know Renya had most likely jumped from the table. A door slamming open caused a rush of relief to flood through her.

“Marcus!” a woman screeched. Leliana hopped away from the barman, turning away and looking embarrassed.

“What?” the man said, trying for innocence.

“Don’t ‘what’ me! I’ve been watching you with this hussy! You think you’re the king of Ferelden himself, do you, that you can have just any woman you want?”

The angry woman continued. Leliana glanced back at her companions. Alistair and Zevran were watching the married couple argue with great amusement. Sten, too, was watching, but with a sort of bored interest on his face. Morrigan and Wynne were staring at her, the former looking impressed and the latter with an unreadable expression. She sighed. Nyviel was staring at Renya. Finally Leliana allowed her gaze to settle onto the Warden, whose eyes had been on her the whole time. She was indeed pushed back from the table and in the process of standing, with her hand on her sword. Blue met green, and the elf nodded once, taking a breath and releasing the grip on her longsword.

Leliana heard a lull in the argument and turned back to the couple.

“And you, you shameless whore!” the barman’s wife hollered, rounding on Leliana. “Get out!”

“But…”

“Out!”

“I haven’t paid yet.”

“ _Out!_ ”

Leliana bowed her head and turned back toward the group. She glanced at them over the top of her eyes, and Renya wasn’t really surprised to see that she didn’t look guilty at all. Instead, a small smile was playing on her lips. She made a subtle head-motion toward the door and, as one, the party got up and hurried to the exit.

“And stay out!” the woman bellowed behind them. Renya, the last one to leave, turned in time to see her grab a pitcher from a nearby table and hurl it at them. She shouldered Leliana out of the way and ducked as the pitcher smashed against the wall.

“So,” Zevran said once they were safely outside and walking again. “You managed to get us better food and wine, and all at no cost.” He nodded. “I’m impressed.”

“Well, it’s ridiculous how they treat elves here,” Leliana said indignantly.

“That’s sweet that you did that for our benefit,” Nyviel said, much too seriously. She elbowed the bard, who glanced at her with a little shrug. Renya, too, was watching her with interest.

“Leliana,” Wynne said, “it’s not up to you to decide punishment for people you do not agree with.”

“Do you agree with their treatment of elves?” Leliana asked coolly.

“Of course not. I’m just saying… Those people have livelihoods. You are not the law, and you are not the Maker.”

But Leliana wasn’t going to be intimidated so easily, not again. “I never anticipated not paying. It was awful that he wouldn’t serve us because Renya, Nyviel, and Zevran are with us. I just wanted us to get a table and some decent food.”

Wynne turned to Renya. “And you approve of stealing from innocent people?”

Renya arched an eyebrow. “Something bad finally happened to a shemlen because of his treatment of elves,” she said simply.

“And you approve of her methods?”

Leliana glanced at Renya nervously. The elf shrugged.

“I would have pressed a knife to his throat. Would you prefer that?”

“Renya…”

The elf sighed. “Do you know how we used to deal with shemlen we found in the forest, Wynne?” She faced the mage and mimed releasing an arrow from a bow.

“You’d _kill_ them?”

“I was considered merciful. I would sometimes let them go with a warning.” She glanced at the three women looking at her with varying degrees of horror on their faces. “With all of the templar attacks…” she sighed. “I have killed more than I have spared.”

Wynne shook her head in sad disbelief. Echoes of Renya swearing to end the Blight came back to her. Had it been too much to ask an elf to defend humans? She noted the troubled look on Renya’s face and her heart lightened, but only slightly. _Maybe not. But…_

Meawhile, Renya’s thoughts had strayed to her last foray into the forest with Tamlen. “A few times humans wandered too close to us, but they were harmless,” she said, defeated, as if offering a truce. “Like I said, sometimes we would let them go.”

“Yes…” Leliana murmured thoughtfully. Renya looked at her with confusion. “One time, I was… traveling through Ferelden with Marjolaine and a few of her other… associates…” She sighed. “A Dalish elf was hunting, and found us one night. I had become lost in the woods. But the elf let me go. Let us all go. It was unexpected.”

“Hm,” said Renya, looking thoughtful.

“Speaking of traveling, forests, and Dalish elves,” Alistair said now, glad to change the subject. “We really need to decide if we are going to Orzammar or traveling to find the Dalish.”

Everyone looked at Renya. Of course, none of the humans were going to suggest tracking the Dalish with her standing there, and Nyviel and Zevran were, for this purpose, city-elves.

“We will go to Orzammar,” Renya said. “The Dalish will have moved on for the winter and will be even harder to find. My clan goes north, but I don’t know where the other Dalish clans go; it would take too long to find them.”

“If you’re sure…” Alistair said.

“I’m sure,” she said with finality. She smiled crookedly. “Orzammar is underground, isn’t it? Being someplace warm might be nice for the wintertime, anyway.”

“I would agree with that,” Wynne said with a small shiver.

“Orzammar, then,” Alistair said, pulling out his maps. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG Chapter 2 reference! haha Okay I'm better now... 
> 
> I really like that Renya understands and trusts Leliana's judgment when she kicks her under the table. Hooray for progress! 
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	88. Wondering

“You were in the Chantry,” Sten said to Leliana a few days later. “You were a priestess?”

Leliana smiled at him kindly. “No, no. I was a lay sister of the Chantry.”

“Which means?”

“I lived and worked in the Chantry, but I did not take any vows,” Leliana replied, glancing at Renya.

But Sten frowned at her. “So you… dabbled in priesthood, then?”

The bard shook her head. “Oh no, the lay sisters don’t have the same sorts of duties as priests at all.”

“So you were not a priest, did none of their duties, and took no vows, but you lived among them?"

“Yes!”

The qunari shook his head in confusion. “…You were… a _house guest_ of the Chantry?”

Nyviel and Zevran chuckled at the uncomfortable frown on Leliana’s face.

“Um… sort of…”

It was a horrible comparison; was that all it was? But Leliana shook her head. Even Renya had told her she had a choice to become whoever she wanted to be. She wanted to be a part of this new life, the one that offered her peace.

She found herself walking next to Morrigan and Renya a little while later.

“That man,” Morrigan said without preamble. “What would you have done with him?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The man at the tavern. If his wife hadn’t come out from the kitchen, what would you have done?”

Leliana sighed. She hadn’t really decided. If Renya hadn’t been sitting at the table behind her, the answer would have been easy. As it had been, though, Leliana hadn’t really decided if she would have kissed the man or not.

“I… don’t know.”

“No?” the apostate asked with mild surprise. “It seemed you were quite sure at the time.”

“No, I…” Leliana’s heart was racing. “It wouldn’t have…” She sighed and began twisting her fingers. “I just wanted to get him to serve us, regardless of who was in the party.” Her eyes sought Renya’s. The elf was staring at her with a carefully guarded expression.

Leliana sighed. “I saw a woman move in the kitchen. I thought it was his wife, and tried to make it seem like more was going to happen. If I hadn’t seen her, I would have done something else completely.”

She chanced a glance over at the other two women. Morrigan and Renya were wearing matching thoughtful expressions.

“You sought to teach this man a lesson after all?”

“…Yes.”

“Why?”

Leliana looked at Renya. “The Wardens needed to eat,” she said simply. “And it’s part of my job to help the Wardens end the Blight.”

“You must have found it enjoyable, to return to the type of person you are.”

“It…” Leliana paused. What had it been like? “Was nice, yes, but only because it was for Re… a good cause.”

“Hm. And…”

“That happened days ago, Morrigan. You did not seem to have complaints at the time,” Renya observed. The witch huffed.

“I was merely curious as to what the Chantry sister’s actions would have been.”

“Yes, Morrigan. I was angry he didn’t want to serve Renya,” Leliana said sharply, turning on Morrigan. “And Nyviel and Zevran, of course,” she added. “I wanted to get us a table and better food, and when the opportunity arose to embarrass him, I took it. Is that what you wanted to know?”

Morrigan looked shocked at Leliana’s outburst. “Yes,” she said after a few seconds. “That is all I wished to know.”

“I am loyal to Renya, Morrigan. And Alistair. And this cause, regardless of whether you believe me or not.”

The witch opened her mouth, but Renya elbowed her and she looked away.

“That is satisfactory,” Morrigan said stiffly, gazing out toward the horizon. “For now.”

Leliana nodded curtly and followed Morrigan’s gaze. Dark clouds were rolling in; they were heading for another storm. She sighed.

***

“Sleep well, Morrigan,” Renya said, relieving the apostate of her watch.

“And you, Warden.”

Renya stood at the edge of the camp, staring out into the darkness and listening to the silence of the winter’s night. She took a deep breath, and watched as the fog from her breath faded back into the darkness in little wisps.

She let her thoughts wander, and they drifted across Ferelden to where she had last seen her clan. It was hard to believe that six months had passed since she left. She wondered how her clan was faring in the Free Marches. Her thoughts drifted to Ashalle and Merrill; her heart ached, and she forced herself to think of something else. Her mind fell onto Tamlen, and then Duncan, and finally onto the story of Garahel. A little noise caught her attention, and she froze. For a moment she wished she had her bow; she had once again loaned it to Leliana, and they had perforce forgotten to purchase one for her at the last town. Instead, she grabbed her dar’misu and silently unsheathed it, her ears pricked up and her eyes searching the darkness.

“Nothing,” she murmured to herself, relaxing. She kept the blade unsheathed, however.

With her thoughts now on Leliana, the elf sighed. It was no use telling herself she wasn’t attracted to the human; she was, and had been for some time. She had even told her so. But there was the catch: Leliana was human.

_And she used you,_ said a voice in her head. Renya made a face and her stomach clenched as she remembered the morning out on the balcony. She had been about to tell Nyviel that she didn’t care what Wynne thought, because she and Leliana… The elf shook her head. Instead, Leliana had cut her off.

_Well of course,_ the same awful voice continued. _You took her away from the Chantry at Lothering, where she was never accepted, and helped her solve her problem with Marjolaine. She is finished with you._

_No,_ she argued with herself. _She wants to be different._

_You saw what she did with that man in the tavern…_

_No._ Renya forced her mind to remember what Leliana had said. _She was trying to help us._

_But you see what she’s capable of. She admitted she doesn’t let feelings get in the way of her duty. How do you know she will not do the same to you?_

_She won’t. She’s not like that, not with us. Not with_ me. _She said she was frightened._

Renya scoffed at the idea again. She was frightened, too. She was traveling with a templar, an apostate witch, an enigmatic qunari, and two assassins, both of whom had, in their own ways, almost brought about her death. She wasn’t the naïve, overly-trusting elf that some believed her to be. But they were all fighting for the same cause, all had proven themselves loyal to her and to each other. Even Morrigan had, a few times, tried to protect Leliana, whom she obviously disliked, sometimes at her own expense.

_No, you da’felas, she’s frightened of loving you. Of_ loving _again._

Renya sighed. The little voice in the back of her mind, the one that always told her the truth, was intruding, irritating, annoying, and… _completely right,_ Renya admitted with a shake of her head. She looked across the camp toward Leliana’s tent. It had been ages since the bard had come to speak with her during her watch, and with a strange jolt Renya realized she missed her.

_Well,_ she said to herself stubbornly. _I’m frightened, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm...
> 
>  
> 
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	89. Interrupted

Leliana woke early the next day and stretched with a yawn. She had slept surprisingly well, and smiled when she saw Nyviel curled up into a little ball underneath her blankets. With another yawn, she turned on her side and blinked. In the low light, she saw something sitting on the ground next to her head. She took it and held it close to her eyes, but wasn’t able to clearly make out what it was. From its feel, it appeared to be made of wood. With another glance at Nyviel, Leliana wrapped her blanket around herself and made her way out of the tent as silently as she could.

Once she was outside, Leliana held up the figure in her hand again. It was a little wooden carving of Andraste, the same one Nyviel had shown her and said Renya had made for her. The bard blinked. How had Renya made it into the tent, left something by her head, and then gotten out of the tent without her noticing?

_Elf,_ she said to herself with a smile.

Speaking of which, the elf in question was sitting facing the forest, meditating. Leliana quietly walked over, noticing Renya’s ears prick up as she came closer. But the elf didn’t open her eyes. So Leliana sat next to her softly, watching the sunrise over her shoulder, wanting to lean against the elf, wanting the elf to tell her everything was okay, wanting…  
  
Renya opened her eyes and glanced over at Leliana. She didn’t seem surprised at all to find the bard sitting next to her. Leliana’s heart swelled as the elf’s face melted into a relaxed smile before she closed her eyes again and resumed her meditation.

***

A few very cold, very snowy days later, Leliana found herself sitting on a log by the fire, animatedly telling stories to Nyviel and Renya – and to Alistair and Zevran, both pretending not to listen.

“…the Maker heard Andraste’s voice, and it was pleasing to His ears. It is said that that very night, the Maker appeared to Andraste in a dream, and…”

“Wouldn’t it be something if Andraste had just made it all up?”

Leliana startled to a stop and stared at the young elf sitting next to her. Nyviel looked back innocently.

“Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know. It gave her power. She used her dream as a way to save her people, didn’t she?”

“Yes, making up a dream in order to serve your own purposes,” Morrigan commented loftily before rising. “A common trait among you Chantry folk, I imagine?”

Leliana frowned. “Maker forgive me for saying this, but you, Morrigan are –”

“Leaving,” Morrigan cut in. “Say what you will, bard. I care not for you fanciful tales of a magic sky-being who abandoned his creations because they used abilities he supposedly gave them.”

“Goodnight, Morrigan,” Renya said pointedly, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Morrigan smiled. “Goodnight, Warden.”

“So Andraste said she had a vision of the Maker in order to save her people,” Nyviel said once Morrigan had retired to her tent.

Renya chuckled. “Yes, and to raise an army of humans and elves.”

Leliana, who was glaring after Morrigan, now leveled her angry gaze at the Warden. “Her hand was guided by the Maker!”

“And he guided her right to her death, I thought.”

Nyviel sighed. Leliana crossed her arms.

“But She earned the freedom of Her people. And the elves!” she reminded Renya indignantly.

“True,” the Warden allowed. “But she could have done that without the Maker.”

“How can you say that with val-vallaslin on your forehead?” the bard demanded, hurt and angry at the two elves now. Nyviel glanced at Renya with wide eyes. But the older elf was frowning in confusion.

“How can I say what with vallaslin?”

“You said you are protected by your gods, by... by…” Leliana faltered, not remembering the names Renya had told her. “By the Elvhen creators, aren’t you? You have their symbols carved into your skin!”

“The People do not do things because the creator gods tell us to,” Renya replied flatly. “We are guided through our meditations,” she said heavily. “I was guided to bear the marks of leadership. I have become a leader.”

It was half-true. Dirthamen and Ghilan’nain were often used by those who became hahren, but elves rarely had two markings – it was seen as signifying internal conflict about your place in the clan. Renya’s dual vallaslin had been dismissed since she was the former Hahren’s daughter, yet was not Marathari’s first. But after what happened at the mirror, Renya began to suspect that wasn’t the conflict that had been in store for her.

And although vallaslin were often simple, they could sometimes be very complicated. It was said that the elves who deviated from the norm – like Renya – were destined for things outside of their station in the clan. Hunters tended to be marked by Andruil’s sign, but Tamlen had been marked by Dirthamen, and he and Renya were often teased that Renya should have been marked by Falon’Din. Merrill, too, had had her own original design, but it was reminiscent of Falon’Din’s markings, which did not seem to fit the benevolent first, in Renya’s opinion, but…

She shook her head. “I am not going to explain the whole process of vallaslin to you, but it is different than claiming a god has spoken to you.”

Leliana looked away dejectedly. And they had been getting along so well.

Renya sighed and glanced at Nyviel, who shrugged. “Although, if your faith pushes you to act in a way that ultimately helps the world, I suppose it does not matter what is true. That is what faith is about, yes? Believing,” she amended quietly. When Leliana’s eyes finally met hers, she gave her a little smile, which the bard returned, looking relieved.

“Okay, so Andraste saw the Maker in the dream,” Nyviel prompted, glancing between them.

“Yes, He appeared to Her and…”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Wynne had come over. At Renya’s stiff smile, she perched herself next to the Warden on the indicated log.

“Thank you. Please,” she added. “Don’t let me interrupt. You are a fine storyteller.”

The bard nodded politely. “Thank you.”

When Leliana had finished her story, Nyviel and Zevran excused themselves to go to sleep. Alistair followed suit.

“My watch, you know,” he said, looking at the fire forlornly before beginning his patrol.

Renya and Wynne remained seated around the fire. Renya pulled out another book Nyviel had loaned her, and painstakingly began trying to read through it, whispering the words to herself and tracing her finger below the symbols. Leliana smiled and moved over to help her, enjoying feeling their legs touching.

Wynne was staring at the flames thoughtfully. The Warden and Leliana appeared to be on better terms, and part of her was very glad. The memory of Renya killing the unarmed human kneeling at her feet was not a pleasant one, and Wynne silently hoped that wasn’t something she would ever witness again. It wasn’t a matter of wondering if the split between the two friends had caused the change; she was quite sure of it. The final straw, Nyviel had called it. So, as it was now, Wynne hoped that Renya and Leliana reconciling would return Renya to the objective Warden she wanted her to be.

Out of the side of her eye, Wynne noticed Leliana tentatively put a hand on Renya’s knee as she leaned closer to help her read one of the words on the page. The mage couldn’t help but feel proud knowing that Renya was trying to teach herself to read. To her, it was a sign that Renya was accepting her fate and trying to assimilate herself into her new reality.

Renya rubbed her vallaslin in frustration, knocking a few hairs astray.

“You’re doing fine,” Leliana said soothingly. She checked herself as she began reaching to brush the hair from her forehead.

“Killing a dragon would be easier than this,” the elf grumbled back. Leliana laughed and Renya couldn’t help but crack a grin.

“But it is worth it. I promise. Just like killing a dragon.”

“If you say so, lethallan.”

Wynne watched as Renya pretended to not see the wide smile that split onto Leliana’s face at the elven word. The two continued reading through the pages, Renya haltingly working through the words and Leliana coaching and encouraging her through each sentence.

“That’s it!” Leliana said happily when Renya had finally finished the chapter some time later. Renya nodded and closed the book, holding it between her hands.

“Good story, but enough for tonight, I think.”

Leliana covered Renya’s hands with her own. “You are truly remarkable,” she said seriously, letting her gaze linger on Renya’s eyes. “Teaching yourself to read in the middle of a Blight.”

“I have… had help.” The elf’s heart was racing, still staring at Leliana.

“Leliana…” Wynne said softly, grabbing both of their attention. Leliana held Renya’s hands more firmly.

“Yes, Wynne?” she asked gently. But her eyes flashed as she looked at the mage. She frowned when she saw Wynne’s eyes flit to their hands, but rearranged her features to look more neutral as older woman looked up at her again.

The mage faltered. “While it is commendable that you are teaching Renya to read,” she began. She stopped. Would she really ruin their relationship again? “What is the story about?” she finished, somewhat lamely.

Leliana watched her carefully. “A great hero of old,” she began. “And his quest to save the world from a treacherous king who sought to destroy it. The hero worries that his traveling companions will be brought to grave danger, but they refuse to abandon their friend.”

Wynne’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Oh?”

“Yes. One in particular tries everything he can to support the hero along the way, although this character is quite flawed and many would see him expelled from the group.”

Renya watched her with interest. Nyviel had told her what the story was about, and this definitely wasn’t it.

Wynne shook her head. “Leliana, that’s not-”

“However,” Leliana talked over her. “This character never wavered in his loyalty, regardless of his flaws and missteps. In fact, this character knows what it is to fight alone, and wishes that fate on no one, least of all his closest, dearest…truest…” She swallowed. “Friend.”

“So this friend is only concerned for the hero’s wellbeing, is he?”

“Yes,” Leliana replied swiftly. “And no. This friend... would stay by the hero’s side forever no matter how the story ends… if the hero would have him.”

A long pause followed this.

“I see.” Wynne’s voice was soft. She looked away. “Excuse me, dear. I am suddenly feeling very tired. I will see you in the morning.”

“Sleep well.”

Leliana finally looked back at Renya, who had remained quiet during this whole exchange. The elf was looking at her curiously, but otherwise Leliana wasn’t sure of what she was thinking. She pulled her hands away and set them in her lap again.

Renya put the book down next to her and, after only a moment’s hesitation, reached out and took Leliana’s hands in her own.

“The hero…” Renya began. She looked away awkwardly and nodded meaningfully. Forcing her eyes back onto Leliana’s blue ones, she continued. “I would like that,” she said softly, swallowing hard.

“Like what?” Leliana asked, hardly daring to believe it.

Renya leaned in, as if no time had passed, as if it was that first night Leliana had told Renya she wanted to be “more than friends,” as if this was what she had wanted all along, and kissed Leliana gently. Leliana sat stiffly for only a moment before pressing back against the elf.

“You by my side,” Renya murmured when they came apart. She kissed her again.

“Really?”

Renya stroked Leliana’s cheek. “Really.”

Leliana smiled, but it faded slightly. “Renya, I’m so sorry about what I said…”

“Atisha, Leliana. It is alright.” Renya paused and pressed her forehead against Leliana’s. “I am sorry, too.” She took a deep breath. “For much more than you know.”

“It’s just…”

Renya silenced her with another kiss. “In the past.”

Leliana looked at her seriously. “I would never use you. I swear to you. I wish I was an elf so I could give you my word… as an elf.”

Renya smiled, touched at the sentiment. “I know. And…” She took a deep breath. “I do not wish you were an elf. I… I love you… like this. As a human.” The momentousness of those words sank in, and Renya nodded. It was true, Mythal protect her.

A moment later, she was knocked off her log as Leliana jumped on her, almost crushing her in a hug.

“I love you, too,” Leliana murmured in Renya’s ear. She giggled. “It’s so nice to say that to someone again. I love you!”

Renya wrapped her arms around her, contentedly breathing in the sweet, flowery smell that Leliana always carried with her.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

Leliana blushed and tried to pull away at Alistair’s voice, but Renya laughed. She looked up into her fellow Warden’s face as she laid upside-down with her legs still over the log. Leliana was lying on the ground at an awkward angle as well, having not expected Renya to topple over backwards.

“No, not at all,” Renya said with some amusement. Alistair rolled his eyes, but grinned at her, twisting himself as much as his armor allowed so he could look at her.

“Whatever you say. It’s good to see you smiling again, at any rate.”

And he walked away shaking his head. Once he was a distance away, Renya looked at Leliana with a mischievous smile. Leliana arched an eyebrow at her playfully.

“Where were we?” Renya asked before pulling Leliana close again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I made up everything about vallaslin in this chapter. It's based on my own observations, some fan theories, and some stretches of Dalish lore that has been built during this particular fanfic.
> 
> Okay. Anyway.
> 
> Aw :)
> 
>  
> 
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	90. Unfinished

“So,” Zevran said to Leliana later the next day. “You were in that cloister a long time, were you not?”

Leliana nodded. “I was. Two years, in fact.”

“Ah. So it has been some time since you have, ah, knocked boots?”

“I occupied my time with quiet reflection and study of the Maker and Andraste, Zevran. There are more things to do with your time than ‘knocking boots.’ Gardening, for instance. I loved to work in the gardens.”

Zevran smiled. “I am sure. But two years… We all have desires of the flesh. After so long, yours must be considerable.”

“I…” Leliana shook her head. “What kind of personal question is that?”

“I am merely offering my services, should you ever hunger for release.”

The bard arched an eyebrow at him. “Ah, I see. Perhaps I should ask the Grey Warden whether she thinks I should accept your offer or not?”

“Leliana, you wound me,” Zevran said good-naturedly. “Traveling has changed you.”

“For the better, I hope.”

“Nyviel,” Zevran said now, turning to her. “You were in that Circle Tower your whole life, yes?”

“Don’t even try it, Zevran. I just _heard_ you talking to Leliana.”

“Too bad for me,” the Antivan said wistfully. He looked at the Warden, who was talking to Morrigan quietly. They both looked up at the same time.

“No,” they said together.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you thought it. Loudly.” Renya shook her head.

“And what was I thinking, my lovely Warden?”

“You were thinking how nice it is that I did not get angry at you for propositioning Leliana.”

Leliana looked pleased, and Nyviel laughed as Zevran’s eyebrows shot up. “My dear Warden, I didn’t realize…” He smiled charmingly. “You are right, of course!”

Renya glared at him for a moment before her face broke into a grin and she laughed. He joined in.

***

“You are far from camp.”

Leliana jumped, then pretended to glare at Renya as the elf sat down next to her.

“Not dangerously so,” Leliana replied, smiling as Renya scooted closer. “I am still within shouting distance.”

“Hm.”

“Were you looking for me?”

“I was. Nyviel’s watch is over and she said you had left the camp after I went to sleep.”

“I see,” Leliana replied simply. She had wanted time to think undisturbed, and so had retreated to sit under the trees just outside of the camp’s perimeter, but Renya’s unexpected appearance was a pleasant surprise. She cast around for something to talk about, although Renya didn’t seem bothered by the silence. She never was.

“I have been thinking…”

Renya looked over at her, a small smile on her lips.

“What you said about ‘letting humans go’ in your forest.”

The smile faded and Renya looked away.

“Oh.”

Leliana continued, pretending she hadn’t noticed. “I… I think one of those times, it… it was... m-me.”

“Oh?” Renya smiled at her playfully. “Well, I am glad I let you go, then. I would be very disappointed in my past self, otherwise.”

Leliana chuckled, but shook her head. “Yes, but…” Her voice faded. “Don’t you remember?”

Renya sighed. “Ir abelas, Lelia. That would have been a long time ago, yes? And I tended to dismiss humans who did not attack me.”

“But… but…”

Renya glanced over at Leliana, feeling guilty. “Alright,” she said quietly, deciding to at least humor her. “You said you traveled with Marjolaine? When was that?”

Leliana sighed. “Goodness. I don’t remember. I was still fairly young, but we were… we were already…”

“You had at least eighteen years,” Renya cut in firmly.

“I… we were traveling to Amarathine. I was twenty years old. I remember now. And in my foolishness I told the elf where we were going, as if that would prove I wasn’t trying to hurt her.”

Renya rubbed her lower lip thoughtfully. “Twenty years?” She frowned. “That was the year of the drought. Animals were closer to our camp, and diseased animals were rampant. Elgar’nan… we went on so many hunts to keep the bears from attacking…”

“Hypothetically, then. What would you have done?”

“Well, if I let you go, it is because I must have decided you were not _too_ threatening."

Leliana tisked. “Renya, I’m serious.”

Renya sighed. “Hammah-rantheen, you said?”

Leliana smiled at the garbled word. “Amaranthine, yes. It’s a human city…” She thought for a moment. “North of here.”

Renya was silent for a moment, thinking. She looked up slowly. “I do remember you,” she said slowly. “I remember thinking I had never seen anyone with red hair like yours before.”

“ _That’s_ what you remember?”

“I just pulled a memory of one human out of a lifetime of memories,” Renya retorted incredulously. “I am impressed I remembered anything at all.”

“That’s fair,” Leliana said, a little disappointed. “I suppose it was too much to hope for, really. It would be romantic, no?” she added, seeing Renya’s curious look. “A brave Dalish elf encounters a human by chance in the forest, only to fall in love with her later and be able to recount every detail of their meeting, because even then, the human had c-captured… a part of her… her heart…”

Renya’s indulgent smile faltered a little and she looked away guiltily. “I would not have offered my heart to… any human,” she said quietly. Merrill had been frantic when she returned a few days later, half of her leg mauled by another bear that had been attacking Fenarel. It had turned its sights onto her when she intervened, and she and Fenarel had limped back to camp, both collapsing at the entrance and needing to be carried to Marathari. She thought of how Merrill had doted on her for days after that. _No,_ Renya thought. _I would not have offered my heart to anyone else, human or no._

But Leliana didn’t look offended, merely resigned. “That is understandable, with what you have told me about your interactions with humans.”

Renya blinked, another memory floating to the surface.

_Scared blue eyes stared back at her as the shemlen stood pinned to the tree. Her red hair glinted a little in the moonlight. Renya had never seen anyone with hair that color before._

_“It’s a… human city north of here,” the woman said. Her voice was surprisingly kind, and she did not sound like the other shemlen she met in the forest._

_When Renya released her, she hesitated before returning the shemlen’s knives, but the shemlen had simply resheathed them and offered her empty hands out to the elf. Her expression had softened, no longer frightened. She was perhaps around Renya’s age._

_Renya blinked. It wasn’t like shemlen to study her, let alone look unassuming and non-threatening. But this shemlen looked like she would be willing to talk to Renya, if she would allow it._

_She wouldn’t. Instead, she turned to leave._

_“Wait!”_

_Of course, the shemlen couldn’t find her way back to her camp. With a sigh, Renya stalked off in the other direction toward the small camp she had been passively watching the entire evening. She wasn’t sure why she had offered to guide the shemlen._

_Well, she did, but she was ignoring the part of her saying that this shemlen was different than the others. That she was kind._

_“You are a hunter?”_

_“What?”_

_“A hunter. For your clan, no?”_

_Renya grunted. “Yes. Why do you ask me this?” she clipped._

_The shemlen faced forward again. “I was just trying to make conversation.”_

_Renya frowned. “Why?”_

_The shemlen looked at her incredulously. “You are hunting a diseased bear, no? And yet are taking time to bring me back to my camp.” She let the implication hang._  
  
_Renya grunted in response. They walked in silence for the rest of the journey. As the shemlen started to enter the small clearing where her three companions lay sleeping, she turned to face Renya._

_“Thank you.”_

“You said thank you,” Renya said quietly.

“Hm?”

“You said ‘thank you,’” Renya repeated. She looked over at Leliana. “I had never heard a human thank me for anything before. And you meant it,” she added, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. “I stayed to watch over your group, yes? I remember. The bear came back. Krislar – another hunter – he said to leave it. It would have found your camp.” She shook her head. “But I thought if _you_ were kind to me, then your friends must be kind, too.”

Leliana smiled crookedly. “Well, two of them were.”

Renya’s face darkened. “Hm.”

“Well,” Leliana said, changing the subject and resting her head on Renya’s shoulder and taking her hand. “It might not be a traditional fairy tale, but I count myself lucky that a Dalish elf thought me kind, and kind enough that she decided to protect me and my friends, even when her clan said she shouldn’t.”

Renya didn’t respond for a long time. Finally she squeezed Leliana’s hand and gently kissed Leliana’s hair.

“Lucky?” she said, ready to tease Leliana a little, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her response was a light snore. Renya’s grin widened for a moment, then faded.

“Not all Dalish stories end happily, Lelia,” she murmured with a sigh, kissing her again and watching the moon’s slow downward arc until she, too, fell asleep.

***

A few nights later, Leliana stood in the dark, pacing around the perimeter of the camp. It was about halfway through her watch. The night was cold, and her thoughts were not good company, still drifting to Denerim and Marjolaine.

“So, what will you do after the Blight is over?” Renya asked. Leliana jumped.

“How do you do that?” she hissed.

“Elf,” the Warden replied simply. “And you did not answer my question.”

Leliana hesitated. Although they had made great progress in their relationship, Leliana knew that it was still very tenuous. Perhaps Renya was having second thoughts.

“I… I haven’t thought too much about that, actually.”

“Will you return to the Shantri? Go back to Orlais?” The voice was soft, green eyes staring off into the dark.

“If I return to Orlais, it would not be to live. I am, actually, Ferelden by birth. My mother was not from Orlais; she was merely a servant to Lady Cecile,” the bard replied.

“So… the Shantri, then?”

Leliana took a deep breath. She could trust Renya. Yes, she would trust her. This was not a play for information, or the set-up in order for Renya to let her down. She was not trying to suggest anything to her.

After all, if she was honest with herself, she knew that Renya didn’t have a deceptive bone in her body.

“I wish to travel. I would love to see more of the world, or at least more of Thedas,” she said honestly. “I have always wanted this.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Renya replied, sounding uncharacteristically insecure. “The Dalish do not have many opportunities to travel for leisure, and it is unheard of for lone Dalish to leave their clan, but now that the Sabrae have moved on and I have met so many different people… I wonder what else is out in the world.”

Leliana felt a smile tug on the corners of her mouth. “Maybe we could travel together?” She closed her eyes, waiting, refusing to let the bubble of hope in her chest deflate.

“I would like that,” the elf replied in a small voice. “But I would think after this you would not want to travel with me anymore,” she added, trying to regain her usual tone.

“Nonsense,” Leliana replied with a relieved grin, looking at the elf. “Traveling is more fun with someone else and…” She gulped. “You are not _too_ annoying.”

Renya laughed hard, and Leliana relaxed at the sound. “Ma nuvenin,” she said. “Then we will plan on traveling Thedas when the darkspawn have finally been beaten back!” Her heart ached at the promise. She hoped it would be one she could keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the fantastic Fern11 and nilra89 for showing interest in knowing more of the story behind the encounter from Chapter 2, and Fern11 for convincing me to put it back in the story :)
> 
> Almost at Orzammar!
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	91. Tomorrow

The party neared Orzammar a few days later. The wind had begun to pick up, and the party hurried on. Bodahn and Sandal had wisely decided to stay in a nerby human village, and so the Wardens’ party was left to fend the weather while carrying their packs on their backs. As the party trudged up the snowy mountain and the sun began to set, it began to blizzard.

“We have to keep going!” Renya bellowed at Alistair over the wind.

Alistair, shoulder toward the storm, nodded. “We should get there in another day,” he called. “Two, if it keeps going like this.”

“We need to make camp!” Wynne called.

“No!” Renya yelled. “We keep going! We will be buried otherwise. Shale!”

The golem stomped easily through the snow to the Warden. “Yes?” she asked. “What does it wish of me?”

“Walk in front – you are the only one who can clear a path!”

“Well, of course,” she said. “I am not squishy like it is. Tell me, does it think it will make it to the dwarven city before it is overtaken by this weather?”

“Yes, we will be fine. Please, Shale.”

“I will do this for it, since it was nice enough to find these fabulous crystals for me!” the golem said, moving her shoulder as if to make the green stones glitter.

“Thank you!”

They marched on. Shale made the walking only a little easier, but Renya was grateful.

“Warden!” Morrigan panted some time later. “’Tis folly to continue! We must seek shelter from this storm!”

Renya looked at Alistair, and then toward where the gates of the dwarven city were obscured by the frantic flurry of snowflakes.

“Our tents don’t stand a chance!” he yelled.

“We will have to go into the forest!”

“What?”

“The forest!” Renya shouted, her voice getting swallowed by the wind. She pointed toward the trees. “The forest!” she tried again.

Alistair nodded, but whether her had heard the words or not was difficult to tell. He moved forward as fast as he could to tell Shale of the changes. The group changed course and marched into the trees.

“Stay here. I will be right back!” Renya yelled once they were a few trees deep into the woods. Without waiting for a response, she nimbly climbed one of the nearest trees.

“Where is she going?” Leliana called in Alistair’s direction.

“What?”

“Where?!” The bard pointed at the tree and shrugged in an attempt to mime her question.

“I don’t know!” Alistair yelled back, shrugging and shaking his head. “She’ll be back!”

Within minutes, Renya landed lightly next to them. She pointed deeper into the forest and started walking. The group followed mutely. After walking for close to fifteen minutes, they came to a very large oak tree with a wide trunk. Renya brought them to the side most protected from the wind and took out one of the tents. Alistair began to set it up, but Renya grabbed his arm to get his attention and shook her head.

“On the tree! Attach it to the tree!”

A few minutes later they had a makeshift lean-to set up, tied securely to the tree. They clambered inside and huddled close together, Shale standing watch outside and wishing that at least a few birds didn’t make it to their nests in time.

Everyone except Renya seemed uncomfortable with the situation.

“Remember what I told you about huddling in aravels?” she said when Alistair asked her how she could look so serene. “It was like this.”

“Cuddling for warmth,” Zevran said with a grin. “How lovely.”

“Don’t touch me,” Morrigan snapped at him.

“At this point, my dear, I’m not sure I have much of a choice in the matter. We barely fit, do we not?”

“I think I’d rather face the cold,” Sten grumbled.

“No one is keeping you here,” Alistair replied grumpily. Sten ignored him.

“I think we should all try and get some rest,” Wynne offered. “We still have a lot of walking to do before we get to Orzammar, and the going will be even slower after this snowfall.”

“We’ll share blankets and keep close,” Renya commented. “It’s most important that we stay warm.” She smiled at Nyviel, who was sitting across from her, squashed next to Alistair. “Glamorous enough?” she asked, arching her eyebrow.

“Yes. More than enough. Actually, less glamor would be great,” Nyviel said good-humoredly.

With a little more grumbling, everyone found a somewhat comfortable position to curl up in for the night. One by one they fell asleep. Renya was propped up against the tree, her head resting on a low knot in the wood.

“Elgar, just lie down,” she grumbled at the dog as he spun around and around at her feet. He huffed at her and curled up by her legs. Renya sighed, appreciating the warm.

Leliana, meanwhile, had somehow managed to wiggle her way through the small tent until she was sitting next to Renya, and began to lean against her before pulling away.

“Your armor is cold!” she whispered, rubbing the side of her face.

“Well, it is silverite,” Renya offered with a smile. “Ir abelas…”

Leliana leaned in, her nose brushing against Renya’s cold ear. “But I was hoping to…”

Renya nodded in understanding. She arranged the blanket so a small piece of it was covering her shoulder. Leliana smiled and leaned against it; it was still cold, but bearable.

“Ma… ma nuvenin,” Leliana tried. Renya chuckled.

“Ma serannas is thank you,” she said kindly. “You just told me, ‘As you wish.’”

“Well…”

Renya kissed the side of her head gently. “Melava somniar, ma vhenan,” she breathed, looping her arm into Leliana’s.

“What does that mean?”

The elf kissed her again. “It means… time to dream. A way to say goodnight…”

“And… and the other part? I-I’ve heard you say that before.”

“Ma vhenan?”

“Mhm.”

Renya paused. “It means… my heart, like… ‘You are my heart.’ My… my love.”

Leliana smiled and snuggled as close as she dared to get to the cold metal. “Goodnight… my love,” she whispered back.

***

Renya woke early the next morning. It was still fairly dark, but the storm seemed to have passed. She started to get up, but Leliana grabbed her arm more tightly in her sleep before stirring.

“Are we leaving?” she asked with a little stretch.

“In a little bit. I want to go out and see what the conditions are.”

“No,” Leliana protested quietly. She snuggled closer. “I’m finally almost warm.”

Renya kissed her forehead. “Well, I can’t get out anyway without stepping on someone…” she said with a shrug. “So…” She stroked Leliana’s chin, tilting her head a little and kissing her sweetly. Leliana kissed back with a light chuckle.

“Well, aren’t you sweet and attentive?”

“Of course I am.” Another kiss. They pulled apart, and Renya smiled as Leliana brushed a few pieces of hair from her face and began stroking her ears. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.

“Your fingers are freezing,” Renya commented a little while later. She was trying very hard to ignore the pleasantly tight feeling in her abdomen. “We should stop. The others will be waking up soon.”

Leliana nodded and pulled away slightly, letting her mind wander briefly to what would happen after the Blight. They would stay together. Of course. Wouldn’t they? Yes, they were going to travel…

“I can’t feel my legs,” Alistair grumbled as he woke up and stretched. He moved them experimentally, accidentally kicking Sten.

“I am closer than you believe, Warden.”

“Oops, sorry,” Alistair said with a wince as he pulled his legs underneath him and tried to pull himself at least into a crouch. Somehow he managed and dragged himself out of the tent.

“Oh, look. The snow’s even deeper,” he called from outside. “You look almost like a snow-golem, Shale,” he added humorously.

“Wonderful. I am most pleased,” Shale replied sarcastically.

Renya managed to detangle herself from Leliana, Elgar, and her blanket and clamber outside after Alistair. She shivered a little; while it hadn’t been exactly warm in the tent, it had been cozier than out here. She blinked at the rising sun.

“No hope of a fire, then?” Alistair asked sadly. “No, I suppose not.”

“We have some dried food…” Renya offered. They had left most of their cooking equipment with Bodahn, deciding to use some of the preserved stores on the hike up the mountain.

“How much longer until we reach the dwarven kingdom?” Morrigan wanted to know when she had exited the tent. She glared at the snow, now up to her knees.

“A day. Two, tops,” Alistair estimated, squinting up the mountain.

The party slowly made their way out of the tent with varying degrees of groaning and popping joints.

“I am much too old for this,” Wynne murmured to herself, trying to stretch her back.

After an unsatisfying breakfast of dried meat and hardtack-like buscuits, the party began slowly making their way up the mountain. Shale was again in front, plowing a path with each stride. Renya fell back.

“Morrigan?”

“Yes, Warden?”

“Would you be able to go on ahead and see what lies before us? If there is danger, more warning would be better, especially in this snow and ice.”

“As you wish. I will return soon.” With a flash of white light, Morrigan turned into a raven and fluttered away, cawing happily.

Nyviel was hugging herself, shivering against the cold. “I wish there was a spell that could make this cloak warmer…” she muttered to herself, pulling it around herself and flipping up her hood.

Half an hour later, Morrigan returned. “We are closer than first imagined,” she said with some surprise. “Only a little further there is a group of dwarves and men. They seemed to be guarding the mountain. One looked very well armed… But I foresee no trouble with them.”

“Good,” Leliana said. “I’m ready to be inside and stay there until spring.”

“I find I agree with you.”

On they marched until the sun was high in the sky. Ahead, Renya glimpsed the guards Morrigan had mentioned.

“Here we go,” she said, removing her swords. Zevran, beside her, copied her movement and slunk around into the trees. Renya made a little head gesture, and Leliana followed him, once again clutching Renya’s bow.

“There they are!” one of the mercenaries called. “Didn’t he say the Wardens would come this way? Get them!”

While not a particularly difficult fight, Renya found it was made worse due to her numb hands. She never realized how much she relied on touch for her swordsmanship. One of the men bore down on her, but an arrow dropped him before he reached her. One tank of a man appeared in front of her, and Renya found herself losing ground until a combined spell between Morrigan and Nyviel knocked him away. Sten managed to finish him off.

“Orzammar, finally,” Zevran said when he rejoined them. He wiped the blood off his blades and glanced at Renya. “There were others in the trees.”

“I had a thimble-full of dwarven ale once,” Leliana said reflectively as they walked. “I woke up three weeks later in Jader with my nightgown on backwards.” She glanced around. “What?”

“Maybe we should keep you away from any taverns,” Nyviel said, arching an eyebrow.

“Nonsense!” Zevran cried. “Once we are in Orzammar, we must celebrate our arrival!” Renya smiled. It would be nice to have something fun to do.

Her smile faded as they reached the gates. No one was around, save for two or three merchants who had braved the storm. After a few minutes of Alistair and Renya pounding on the great doors, they gave up. Something glittering caught Renya’s attention. Nearby stood a weasly little human, crouching in the corner of the courtyard with crates of goods behind him. Underneath a torn piece of burlap lay a beautiful two-handed sword. She sidled over to the qunari, keeping her eyes on the human.

“Sten?”

“Yes?”

“That sword over there…”

The Qunari squinted in the direction Renya indicated. He frowned.

“My Asala. I would recognize the pommel anywhere…”

They glanced at each other, and then Renya marched over. Sten was beside her.

“Welcome, good sers,” the human said politely, his eyes darting around and looking anywhere but at his customers. “The finest wares from across Thedas and beyond, I have. If I could tempt you…?”

“That sword there,” Renya cut him off. “Where did you acquire it?”

“Ah…” The man licked his lips nervously. “I did not steal it, if that is what you mean. I found it. The sword of a great warrior, very expensive. It is yours for ten sovereigns…”

“It belongs to him,” Renya said, pointing at Sten, who growled at the man.

“Ah, I think you’ll find that it is indeed mine. It is in my shop, after all.” He laughed nervously.

“Give him his sword, or he will rip your arms and legs off with his bare hands.”

“Nonsense, there are laws against that kind of thing, and…”

“I am sure the entire country would mourn you,” Renya said flatly. “Go ahead, Sten.”

“Wait wait wait!” the man cried, skipping back a few steps as Sten advanced. “You mean this sword? Ha-ha-ha…” He pulled the great sword from behind him with two hands and presented it to the giant. “Of course, _this_ sword is yours, ser. I am happy to return it to you. I had wondered when its owner would return, and decided to keep it safe!” He tried to smile. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Bas,” Sten grumbled. He took his sword and examined it closely.

“Everything in order, Sten?”

The giant smiled. “Yes.” He threw the greatsword he had been using at the thief.

“How much for that?” Renya said swiftly. The man stumbled backward under the weight of the heavy steel.

“Fifty silver.”

Renya drew her dar’misu. “How much?”

“One sovereign!”

The elf resheathed her sword. “Better.” She took the money from the man’s shaking hand and walked back to her companions.

She looked at Leliana. “That was fun,” she said politely. “I see why you did that for a living.”

Leliana raised her eyebrows. “Well, that is not exactly how I would have handled it but…” She shook her head and looked at the gold piece in Renya’s hand. “I cannot argue with results.”

“Warden?”

“Yes, Sten?”

“You have helped me regain my Asala.”

Renya smiled. “Yes, Sten. I have.”

“I now have no need to stay with your party.”

The elf startled. She hadn’t been expecting that. “Well, no, I suppose you can now return to your people if you wish. But I would like to have you by my side as I fight the Blight.”

Sten considered this. “That is interesting. I would be able to deliver a much more satisfying answer to the Arishok’s question if the Blight were ended, don’t you agree?”

“Absolutely.”

The Qunari smiled. “Then lead the way, Kadan.”

Unfortunately, Renya was not able to do too much more leading that day. They made camp at the top of the mountain, hoping someone would come out of the great dwarven city the next day so they could enter. Morrigan managed to create an enchanted fire in the snow, and they huddled around it. They crammed themselves into two tents that night, and Renya found herself back-to-back with Nyviel. Leliana was lying as comfortably as she could on one of her mailed arms. Elgar snuggled happily between them, much to Leliana’s annoyance, but Renya chuckled.

“Oh, come on, Leliana,” she said tiredly. “Let him stay. He’s warm.”

“Have I mentioned that I do not care for the cold?” Morrigan’s voice floated through the tent.

“Me neither,” Nyviel grumbled.

“We’ll be in Orzammar tomorrow, I’m sure,” Wynne said with a sigh. “Hopefully.”

They fell asleep listening to the wind rushing across the mountaintop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted an explanation for why Leliana refers to the Warden as "my love" all during Inquisition, other than the fact that it's impossible for a custom name to be used in a video game with voice acting. So... aww :)
> 
> Really-almost-finally in Orzammar!!
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	92. Welcome to Tapster's

The next day, they sat huddled in their tents, periodically checking to see if anyone had come out of the great gates. Renya was fidgeting.

“We’ll get in soon, don’t worry,” Leliana said soothingly.

“I hate sitting out here waiting. I prefer doing things to sitting and waiting,” the elf grumbled. She pushed away the memories of huddling in the aravel with Merrill, passing the time by talking or listening to the first read stories. But Renya never had such a time-sensitive errand before. It had been easier to wait when all that was delayed was a hunt; the fate of the world didn’t rest in the balance.

Now, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Leliana reached up and stroked her cheek gently. Renya let herself be soothed by the bard.

“Someone will come out. Patience, my love.”

The sun was already on its downward arc when shouting caught their attention; it was coming from the great guilded doors. Renya and Alistair were outside in a flash, with the other companions clambering outside behind them and beginning to pack up the tents with overly-optimistic excitement.

“I demand, by the regent king Loghain, that you open these doors at once! I have urgent business with your king!”

“I’m sorry,” the dwarf at the gate replied. “No one is allowed in to Orzammar right now. Our king has recently returned to the Stone, and the assembly has not selected a new leader. Until we are united under one crown again, no visitors may enter.”

“But this is the king’s business!” the man said. “I have the weight of the royal family behind me!”

The dwarf looked unimpressed. He crossed his arms. “That’s nice. Come and bring that weight here and we’ll see if the answer is any different.”

“Excuse me.” Renya walked up to the dwarf and gave him a polite bow. “We request an audience with your king, or your assembly.”

The dwarf’s eyes flicked up to the markings on her forehead. “Dalish, I see. We trade with your people. Always very honest. Unlike some,” he added nastily, looking back at the human. He sighed as he turned back to Renya. “But I’m sorry, no one is allowed in or out.”

Renya pulled out the Grey Warden treaties. “I have these documents here…” She handed them over. “Requesting that the dwarves help the Grey Wardens during a Blight.”

The dwarf looked at them and nodded. “These have the royal seal on them. Only the assembly will be able to address this. The doors open for you and your company only.”

The human’s eyes popped. “What? The Grey Wardens?” he demanded. He pointed to Renya accusingly. “They are traitors to Ferelden! By order of King Loghain, I order you to kill this traitor and all her companions!”

“Sod off,” the dwarf said, annoyed. “Your king does not have jurisdiction over the dwarves.”

“I suggest you move along,” Renya added threateningly. “Run back to your king. Go. Tell him what happened.”

“Loghain will hear about this,” the man growled. “You’ll be sorry.” And he marched away with his men.

“Enter, Grey Wardens. But beware. The dwarves do not take kindly to outsiders meddling in their affairs.”

“Who does?” Renya said with a shake of her head. The dwarf smiled and turned to open the doors.

“Warden?” Shale said. “I wonder if it would allow me to go down the mountain and stay with the other small squishy dwarves. I am not sure the appearance of a golem in a dwarven city will end well for me.”

“Nonsense,” the dwarf said, pulling the door open. “They’d love to see you. Go on.”

And so they entered the great gates of Orzammar.

Silence fell over the group as the walked into the main hall. Tall statues of dwarves stood along the walls, gold and grand. Renya heard a dwarf standing near one of the statues refer to them as “paragons.”

“I wonder if they sell miniatures?” Leliana commented quietly. “I would love to have one or two on my mantle.” Renya couldn’t help but grin.

“Mind your manners, topdwellers,” another guard said to them at the other end of the hall.

They entered the city, and Renya was immediately drawn to a great viewing platform overlooking a lake of lava, swirling and bubbling beneath them.

“Marvelous,” Morrigan said, her voice a little higher than usual. “Let us enjoy the scenery before falling to our deaths.” She looked around at her companions. “What? Let us move on. Can you not feel the mountain pressing down on us?”

“What is that?” Leliana pointed to something that looked like a pig with very large ears and a flat, pointed snout. “It’s so cute!”

“You like things with big, pointy ears, don’t you?” Renya said with a playful grin.

“I… not… ahem. I think the little pig thing would be a cute pet. I think you would be…” She whispered something in Renya’s ear and the elf blushed.

“Point taken.”

They passed by a woman kneeling at the feet of another great statue, praying for someone named Ruck.

“Please, return my Ruck home safely,” she was saying. Renya wanted to go over and talk to her, but Zevran grabbed her arm.

“Look, Tapster’s Tavern,” Zevran said wistfully. “So many good memories. Come, let us reserve rooms and get a drink before any official business. A good night’s rest indoors is exactly what we need, I think.”

Renya nodded. “I will drink to that,” she said with a grin.

“I will stay out here,” Shale said. “I am… drawn to these large statues and would learn their stories. I will see it when it exits the building again.”

“Enjoy yourself, Shale.”

“Oh, I will.”

***

“Welcome to Tapster’s Tavern,” the tavern keeper said when they entered. “You’re not from around here. What can I help you with?”

“Is this some sort of… mass suicide?” Sten asked, glancing around the tavern.

“There is no fool like a drunken fool,” Morrigan said wisely as two dwarves tripped over each other and fell over a chair in unison. “So my mother always said, and ‘tis apparently true.”

“Rooms, please,” Zevran said, ignoring both of them. He counted quickly. “Enough for…”

“I can tell you right now. We only have five rooms,” the owner said with a shrug. “That storm scared everyone underground.”

“We’ll take them,” Zevran said. He looked at Renya. “What? We don’t have much choice, do we?”

“Here, Lorinda will show you to your rooms. Hey,” she added, seeing Alistair and Renya. “You’re Grey Wardens.”

They nodded.

“Move those freeloaders to a different floor, Lorinda. Give the Wardens that nice suite upstairs. All five rooms.” The owner looked at the Wardens kindly. “I’ve heard that the rest of Ferelden is giving you a hard time. But Wardens are always welcome here,” she said with a nod.

“Thank you,” Alistair replied seriously. Renya nodded to her.

The dwarf, Lorinda, brought them upstairs to a large suite, and they entered a decently-sized common area with couches and tables. Of the five rooms, it turned out that three had only one bed in them, and Morrigan and Sten were quick to claim two of them. Nyviel nudged Leliana and Renya toward the third when the others weren’t looking.

Once everyone had chosen rooms, Renya and Leliana entered the one farthest to the left. Renya plopped down her packs with a sigh. “I am so excited to sleep on a real bed,” she said. She looked at the very fluffy-looking thing in the corner apprehensively. “How do I… do I just lie down on it? Are those sheets? Do I take them off first? Is that rude?”

“It’s a bed,” Leliana said with a smile. “You’re not going to hurt it if you do it wrong.”

With that, Renya grinned and took a running start, leaping at the bed. She twisted in midair and landed on her back, making the mattress bounce. She sighed contentedly and closed her eyes.

“This is the most amazing thing I have ever laid on in my life!” she said while Leliana laughed. She scooted up and rested her head on one of the pillows. “That is settled. I am staying here until the end of the Blight!” She sat up. “One day, the Dalish are going to have their own land, and every single one of them should get a bed. Just like this one!” She bounced to the edge and swung her legs off. They barely reached the ground. Laughing, she hopped off and began digging in her pack for her Grey Warden dress uniform.

Leliana was watching her with a huge smile on her face. She had never seen the elf look so happy, and told her so.

“It is not always all gloom and misery with the Dalish,” Renya replied, skipping off to the other side of the room with her uniform. She opened another door and went inside to explore. Leliana heard what sounded like water running. It stopped. Then it started again.

“Elo!” Renya said with wonder. The sound stopped again. “Leliana, look at this!”

Smiling with amusement, Leliana joined Renya in the little room off the bedroom.

“There is this big basin,” Renya said without preamble, pointing. “And when I turn this little knob…” She reached over and twisted something on the wall. “Water comes out of this tube! When I twist it again…” She did. “It stops!” She did this a few more times, laughing, before Leliana gently took her hand off of the faucet. Renya looked around the rest of the room with interest.

“This is called a water closet,” Leliana said helpfully. “That’s a tub; you can bathe in it. And this is… a latrine, for other… personal needs…” She smiled. “Usually only the very, very wealthy have running water and latrines like this. I suppose the dwarves have perfected a way for pipes to run all through their city.”

Renya looked at her, not really understanding, but nodded anyway. “Well, I am glad they did.” She grinned. “Can you show me how to use this thing, now?” She pointed to something that looked like a smooth, hollowed out stump with water in it, not remembering the strange word Leliana had used.

“Maker…” Leliana couldn’t help but smile. “Well, you… use it… And then you pull this.” She pointed to a chain with a handle on it. “And… everything gets flushed away.”

“Use it?”

Leliana sighed. “You… you remember the outhouses in the last town we were in?”

“Yes.” Renya frowned. “ _Oh._ ” She stared at the chain, then at the little seat with interest.

“Come on,” Leliana said. “This isn’t really someplace you spend a lot of time.”

“Can I change my clothes in here?”

“Of course.”

Renya’s lightheartedness was contagious. Leliana left her, closing the door behind her, and decided that she would change, too. Renya had liked that purple dress she had worn… Her stomach clenched at the memory, but this was a good time to replace that with some new ones, wasn’t it?

Leliana smiled as she heard the water turn on and off one last time, followed by a little giggle, and quickly slipped out of her armor and into her dress. Renya came out a few minutes later in her Grey Warden uniform. At her waist was Duncan’s shining longsword, her dar’misu, and her hunter’s knife, all glittering in the light of the lava running through the walls. Renya blinked when she saw Leliana.

“Mythal’enaste,” she said, a grin creeping onto her face.

“You like it?”

“I… You look beautiful.”

“Ma…serannas,” Leliana replied, following along as Renya helpfully mouthed the last word.

“Renya? Leliana?” Nyviel called, knocking on the door. “We’re going down to get something to eat. And Zevran challenged you to a drinking contest. Are you coming?”

“Yes, we are coming,” Renya said, not taking her eyes off Leliana.

“Alright.”

“Come,” Renya said, reaching out and taking Leliana’s hand. “I would hate to deprive the others of your beauty.” She walked her to the door before grabbing her waist and kissing her. “But then again, maybe I will just keep you for myself.”

“Later, my love,” Leliana said, kissing her back. “I’m all yours.”

Renya swallowed and looked away with a vague nod.

“Let us go, then.”

***

“Ah, there you are!” Zevran said. He, too, had changed into a red and gold suit. Alistair smiled at Renya in approval, indicating his own Grey Warden uniform, different than hers but still unmistakeable. The addition of the extra plate looked good on him, and Renya adjusted her single black glove, still not used to the asymmetry of her uniform, before smoothing her hands down the blue and white stripes of her tailed jacket.

She grinned back at him and noticed his eyes flit over to Leliana, which widened a little before he turned away, clearing his throat.

“Oh, Alistair,” Leliana said, looking pleased.

“Leliana, you are beautiful as always,” Zevran said with a smile, taking her hand and kissing it, winking at Renya. The Warden rolled her eyes with a smile. “But come, our table is over there.” He pointed. “And they are bringing out the first course. And the first round!”

Renya hadn’t been so relaxed since before she had left her clan. It was nice to see everyone laughing and getting along. Even Morrigan began to smile after her third glass of wine.

Leliana was still nursing her first pint of watered-down dwarven ale, amazed as Sten drank tankard after tankard.

“How do you do that?” she asked in amazement.

“It is a way to train,” he said carefully. “A true warrior must be in control of his body at all times and ready to fight in any condition.”

“So lemme get this straight,” Alistair said, indicating the Qunari with his pint. “Qunari train by getting drunk?”

“Sometimes.”

“Interesting,” Morrigan said. “Is there a word for this kind of training?”

“There is, but you would grow old and die before I had finished saying it.” He glanced around. The table was silent.

“Sten, did you just… make a joke?” Renya asked.

“I thought it was obvious, Kadan.”

Renya stared at him, and then burst out laughing. Soon the rest of the table joined in; Sten looked pleased.

“Renya,” Zevran called. “How many drinks in are you, my lovely Warden?”

“Two pints of this awful ale. Is there anything else to drink here?”

“Come with me to the bar, then!”

Renya rose. To Leliana’s surprise, she was steady on her feet. The two elves walked over to the bar arm in arm. Nyviel scooted next to Leliana.

“And I thought Renya’s Dalish wine was potent…” She slammed her tankard down a little too hard, but otherwise seemed very steady.

Leliana gently slid it away from her. Sten immediately took it and began drinking it.

“This should not go to waste,” he said simply. Nyviel shrugged and waved her hand at the tankard in invitation. She looked across the bar and laughed, tugging on Leliana’s arm.

“Look, Zevran is flirting with that barmaid. Maker- creators know what he’s going to bring back.”

Leliana watched as Zevran leaned forward and kissed the young barmaid on the cheek. She giggled and blushed, then nodded. Renya caught Leliana’s eye and winked. She and Zevran returned to the table, Renya sporting a very large pitcher of wine and Zevran holding a grand, dark bottle of some amber liquid. A waitress came over and deposited a few small glasses and wine goblets on the table.

“Apparently they keep some ‘topsider’ drinks on hand for when Grey Wardens pass through,” Renya said happily.

“And Nevarran whiskey,” Zevran said with a twinkle in his eye. “Let the fun begin.”

Wynne had excused herself long before the little party was done eating, and much longer before they finished drinking. The large pitcher had been refilled twice, and the bottle of whiskey was slowly being pounded away by Zevran and Renya, who had convinced Alistair to join them. Nyviel, too, had taken a few shots before she her eyes began to unfocus a little.

Morrigan, too, was watching the drinking competition with interest, smiling and encouraging Renya to beat Alistair, not noticing as Zevran refilled her wine glass yet again. In Leliana’s opinion, Alistair didn’t have a chance. The Dalish and Antivan didn’t appear to be too affected, and even Nyviel seemed to be keeping up, but poor Alistair was already gripping the table harder than was necessary to keep his balance under normal conditions. Leliana, too, was beginning to find it hard to focus. After finally finishing her watered-down ale, she had been convinced by Renya to drink two glasses of wine and three other, very fruity drinks that she had procured from the bar. The barkeeper seemed to like them. Oh, and two shots of the amber whiskey, one to try it and one because Renya had convinced all of them to take a shot for her friend Merrill, who was from Nevarra originally.

Such was the state they were in.

“Y’know,” Alistair said now. “’M really, really glad I met all of you. Like, really glad,” he said seriously. He clapped Renya on the shoulder. “Epse…espeshin…Ex…specially you, Renya.”

“I am glad we met, too, lethallin!” Renya gave him a warm side-hug.

“If I had to fight the Blight alongside anyone else…” he said, looking around the table. “I… I wouldn’t want to do that. I’d tell them ‘no.’ I’d tell them… I’d say that they’d have to get me all of you people before I would fight the Blight.”

“Okay, lethallin.” She glanced at Zevran, who was grinning.

“Really. I mean it.” He looked at her earnestly.

“I believe you.”

A comfortable silence fell. Morrigan gave her head a little shake.

“Well, I believe I have had enough fun for one evening,” she commented, her words slurring together a little and thus diminishing their effect. She rose with a little difficulty and gripped the table to steady herself.

“I think I’m going to call it a night, as well,” Nyviel replied, also rising carefully. She was quite steady until she took a step and stumbled, falling sideways into Renya’s lap.

“Sorry, Renya.”

Morrigan shook her head, then blinked, swaying where she stood. Sten also rose carefully. He gripped both mages by one of their arms and gently guided them out of the tavern without a word. He looked like he was concentrating very hard on where his feet were falling. Renya watched him walk a wavy line to the back of the tavern before Zevran grabbed her shoulder.

“I know a game we can play,” he said.

“No, no more games,” Alistair said, shaking his head.

“It’s… it’s not fair that you two are here,” Leliana said. Somewhere in her brain she realized that wasn’t the sentence she wanted to say, but wasn’t quite sure why.

“And why not, my dear?” Zevran asked patiently.

“Because… you aren’t like this!” She pointed at Alistair, who was sitting in his chair giggling.

“She said it’s not fair you’re here,” he said in a loud stage whisper to Renya. “I think she wants you someplace else.”

“I am sure, lethallin,” Renya replied with a smile, letting Alistair lean against her as he started laughing.

“So…” Zevran said mischievously, undeterred. “A game? We each ask a question, who we think is ‘most likely’ to do something. Then we all point to who we think is most likely to do it.”

“When does the drinking happen?”

“You take a drink for each person pointing at you.”

“Ooo! I have one!” Alistair said happily. “Most likely to slay the archdemon!”

Everyone pointed at Renya. She smiled and tried to push what that might actually mean out of her mind. She took three drinks from her wine glass, finishing it.

“Your turn, my lovely Warden.”

“My turn?” She rubbed her vallaslin thoughtfully. “Most likely to unsuccessfully try and sleep with Morrigan.”

Renya and Leliana both pointed at Zevran, who was also pointing at himself. Alistair, to everyone’s surprise, was pointing at his own face.

“Really?” Renya asked in surprise. “I did not think you liked her.”

“She’s awful,” he admitted, taking a drink. “But c’mon. She’s not so bad.”

“Alistair, you are very drunk.”

“Yes, I am.”

“My turn!” Zevran said happily. “Most likely to break someone’s heart with a glance.”

Leliana found three fingers pointed at her, while she pointed at Renya.

“Me? No! That’s not nice!” she protested. Renya laughed.

“Is it not true?”

“But…”

“Three drinks, Leliana,” Zevran said. Seeing her wine glass empty, he poured her three shots. He poured one for Renya, as well.

“You can’t really expect me to do this…”

“Bottoms up, I think I heard one of the durgen’len say,” Renya commented, raising her glass in a salute before downing it.

Leliana drank the three shots quickly, which, upon some reflection, she wasn’t sure was a good idea or not.

“Your turn,” Zevran reminded her.

“Me?” Leliana blinked. “Most likely to… I don’t know.”

She found three fingers pointed at her again. Alistair had his hand clamped over his mouth, trying to stop himself from laughing.

“That’s not fair!”

“That’s the rule, my dear-”

“No, give her a chance to think of something,” Renya said, folding her hands in front of her again. “She has been drinking a lot and she’s….”

“Most likely to fell a darkspawn at twenty paces!”

“There we go,” Zevran said approvingly.

Leliana and Renya drank two shots each.

“Go again,” Renya said politely. Leliana grinned.

“Most likely to… convince someone to do something. No! Haven’t you been watching Renya?” she protested when she found all three of her companions pointing at her again. Alistair was pointing at her with both hands.

“Says the bard,” he said with a grin.

“I…”

“Sorry, my dear,” Zevran said with a shrug. Leliana groaned and took her three shots.

“Hey, she gets another one!” Alistair protested. He shook his fingers at Zevran. “I pointed at her twice.”

“Oh, I forgot,” Zevran said soothingly, pouring another shot and taking it himself when Alistair had looked away, satisfied. He winked at Renya, who chuckled.

“Most likely…” Leliana was saying now, staring hard at the elf next to her. “To stay with Renya until the end.”

“Me!” Alistair cried happily, reaching for a glass. “Pour up, Zevran!”

“I think someone’s had enough,” Zevran commented, pouring for Alistair.

A round of drinks appeared at the table. “For the Grey Wardens!” someone cried. A cheer went up, and Alistair waved happily. Renya, too, smiled and nodded her thanks, raising one of the glasses and sipping it.

“Who will finish off this lovely bottle?” Zevran asked. “There are only a few drinks left.”

“One for each of us,” Renya commented. “Is there enough?”

“We will make it enough, my lovely Warden, in the spirit of friendship!”

They took their last shots, and Zevran grabbed Alistair’s arm to steady him. The whiskey was have quite an affect on Leliana, too, and she leaned against Renya heavily. The elf was sipping at the new drink with an interested look on her face.

“Try it,” she said to Leliana without thinking. Leliana smiled and took a sip. It was very good, and she took the glass away from Renya and began drinking it. Renya chuckled and took the drink that was in front of Leliana and began drinking it, instead, with great amusement. Luckily the drinks weren’t that large.

“This was really good,” Alistair said, putting the glass down and almost missing the table. His words were very slurred. “We shoul’ ge’ another one.”

“You know, my friend, I think it’s time for us to bring you back to the room,” Zevran said kindly, rising and helping the much-larger Warden to his feet.

“But I’m having fun!”

“We have an early morning tomorrow, lethallin,” Renya said with a doting smile.

“Oh, alright. Party-pooper…”

Alistair leaned heavily on Zevran, who, to his credit, did not sag under his weight. “Renya, if you could…?”

“I will pay the bill and ask them to send up some water…”

“You are a diamond, my lovely Warden. Sleep well.” He glanced at Leliana before winking at Renya.

“Sleep well, my flirtatious Antivan.” She watched them go, shaking her head fondly, and then turned to Leliana. “Leliana, stay here. I am going to pay. I will be right back, and then we will go back to the room.”

“Okay.”

Renya hurried over to the barkeeper and paid their quite significant bill. Renya put extra coin on the counter. “And could you send up some pitchers of water, please?”

The barkeeper smiled knowingly. “Of course, ser. Right away.”

Renya came back to the table and found Leliana nodding off to sleep. A dwarf was walking toward her, leering. She sat down next to the bard and put her arm protectively around her, pretending to not see him. The dwarf hesitated, and Renya gently removed her dar’misu and put it on the table. The dwarf backed away and returned to his friends. Smiling, she shook Leliana’s shoulder.

“Lelia…” she said softly. “Lelia, come on, time to go back to the room.”

“Okay, Renya. I’m coming…”

Renya smiled as the bard leaned against her shoulder with her eyes closed. She resheathed her small blade and pulled Leliana off of the bench. The bard roused a little and was able to walk, heavily supported, to the other end of the tavern with little incident.

“Renya…”

“Here, Lelia…” Renya scooped Leliana into her arms easily. Leliana giggled and looped her arms around Renya’s neck.

It was lucky the bard was such a small human to begin with. Renya walked up the stairs to their rooms. Someone had already been up and left two large pitchers of water on one of the tables in the common area. Nudging open the door to their room with her foot, Renya walked in and gently laid Leliana on the bed. She fussed with the blankets until the bard was covered. After she had finished changing into her sleeping clothes, Renya hesitated, wondering if she should get in the bed or not.

Instead, Renya quietly left and returned with a glass of water.

“Drink this, Leliana.”

“No, I don’t want to drink anymore…”

“It is water. It will make you feel better.”

“I feel fine.”

Renya kissed her. “Drink just a little.”

“Alright…” Leliana let herself be propped up and took a few sips of water.

“Just a little more…”

Leliana nodded and drank the rest of the glass.

“Let me get you another glass…”

Leliana shook her head. “No, Renya. I just want to sleep…”

The elf sighed and put the glass on a little table as Leliana leaned back on the pillows and nodded off again. She closed the door as quietly as she could and tiptoed over to her pack, taking out her bedroll and laying it on the floor near the fireplace.

“Renya…?” The bard stirred a little. “Don’t leave me alone…”

“Lelia, I…” Renya shook her head, but Leliana didn’t see her.

“Please, Renya… Don’t... don't leave me…”

Renya quietly sighed. “Ma nuvenin, vhenan,” she said softly before climbing into the bed and wrapping her arms around the bard, who snuggled in to her happily. She kissed her forehead, stroking her red hair.

“Melava somniar, ma vhenan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure there is anything I can say that will add to this chapter, other than that I love it so much for so many reason! What do you think of their grand entrance into Orzammar? Or their party? Or Renya's experience of the bedroom??
> 
>  
> 
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	93. The Morning After

Leliana awoke the next morning feeling like she had been beaten by an ogre. She rolled over and sat up quickly when she saw the bed was empty. She flopped right back down again as her head throbbed.

“Ugh… Maker…”

When she finally made it out to the common area, now in her tunic and leggings and wrapped in a dressing-gown she borrowed from the room, she found Morrigan sitting on one of the couches with her head in her hands. Her usually well-kept and shiny hair was touseled and dull-looking, and when she removed her hands to see who had joined her, Leliana saw that her eyes were as bloodshot as her own. Sten lumbered out of his room, and even the well-trained qunari looked less like a disciplined warrior and more like a bear that had tumbled down the side of a mountain.

Nyviel was sitting on the couch next to Morrigan, trying to convince her to drink a blue potion.

"It'll help," she insisted. Morrigan swatted her hand away with a groan. Nyviel glanced up at Leliana with a small smile. "Good morning," she said.  
  
Zevran entered the room buoyantly and smiled at his companions. “I took the liberty of ordering food.” He poured enough glasses of water for all of them. “And might I suggest drinking some water? I hear it helps.”

“Maker, what happened in here?” Wynne asked, coming into the common area a few minutes later.

“A fabulous party, Wynne,” Zevran said with a smile.

“Where’s Renya?” Leliana asked, taking the glass of water from Zevran.

“Ah, the Wardens have gone out to see the state of Orzammar. And I believe they said they were going to one of the markets to restock supplies.”

“When will they be back?”

“They left a few hours ago. I imagine they will be back for the midday meal.”

A loud knock on the door caused Sten, Leliana, and Morrigan to all groan. Wynne looked at them with a mixture of disbelief and pity on her face as Zevran went to answer the door.

He came back with a serving dwarf, both carrying trays of food.

“Eat up,” the dwarf said gruffly. “Helps the headache. This is our special ‘morning-after’ breakfast!” He guffawed. Another groan filled the room and he stopped abruptly. “Right. Sorry. If you need anything else, give a call.” And he left, gently shutting the door behind him.

Wynne and Zevran began spooning the food into bowls and handing them out before serving themselves.

“This is actually very good,” Wynne commented. Zevran nodded.

“We should be sure to save some for our Wardens when they return…”

The door banged open and shut – eliciting more wincing and groaning from the companions – as Alistair stomped in. His eyes were bloodshot and his face drawn. He flopped face-down onto one of the couches without comment.

“Breakfast?” Zevran offered.

Alistair mumbled something that sounded very much like “I hate dwarves.” Elgar snuffled his way over.

“And don’t feed that dog!” Alistair said angrily, raising his head and pointing at the warhound. Elgar scrunched himself into a little ball.

“Why not?” Leliana asked. Alistair sighed.

“Renya and I have been running errands for the prince and a nobleman all morning…”

“Wait, what time is it?” Nyviel asked, glancing up from her food.

“Eleven,” Alistair responded, sitting up and finally taking the food offered to him. “And we’ll have to journey to the Deep Roads to find this… paragon, and an Anvil, and… it’s a really long story,” he said, spooning eggs into his mouth.

“But this Harrow-whatever, and Balin-prince-man… they wouldn’t even talk to us until we had run from one end of the city to the other running errands for them. And Harrow is apparently spreading rumors about Balin, but Balin – Bhelen? – had one of Harrow’s advisors assassinated…”

“Is this so?” Morrigan remarked. “’Tis madness. Must we pursue such foolish creatures to boost our cause?”

Leliana smiled grimly. “We can still secure allies here, Morrigan. This is child’s play compared to the intruigue of Orlais.”

“I am sure,” the witch replied flatly. “’Tis something you are proud of, I imagine.”

Leliana began to reply but Alistair cut her off.

“Anyway,” he said pointedly. “We wound up talking to this dwarf, Oggen, or something, and… Elgar didn’t like him very much.” The mabari whined.

“But we need him to find this paragon woman. Now the dwarf is saying he won’t go with us. He’s the only one who can bring us where we have to go.”

“And where is our lovely Warden now?” Zevran asked.

“Getting supplies.” He sighed. “She said I needed to eat. And sent me back with this troublemaker,” he said, glaring at Elgar, who whimpered again. “She should be back soon.”

***

Renya, meanwhile, had dropped her, Alistair’s, Leliana’s, Sten’s and Zevran’s armor at a local smith, along with the dragon scales. The smith had been thrilled to have such a large order, and promised to infuse the armor with the scales, improving their strength and durability while also adding to their fire resistance. If the archdemon was a dragon, Renya figured, they would need all the fire resistance they could get. Then, she had enlisted a dwarf from the poor Dust Town to find a well-fed nug – one of those pig things – and bring it to the Last Stand Tavern where Bodhan and Sandal were staying. Upon finding out that dwarves eat nugs, she also sent him with express instruction to tell them this creature was most definitely _not_ for eating.

Along the route back, she had nearly tripped over a dwarf lying on the ground.

“Ara seranna-ma,” Renya said after she had hopped over the woman’s legs. “I was not looking where I was going.”

“It’s alright, stranger. No one notices old Nadezda anymore.” She eyed Renya up and down, now looking very common in her simple Dalish robes.

“I suppose I couldn’t bother you for some coppers? I haven’t eaten in a few days,” she said with a little doubt, tucking a couple strands of greying hair behind her ear.

Renya arched an eyebrow. “I am new to Orzammar,” she said kindly, offering her hand to the dwarf. “Why don’t I get you something to eat?”

“Me? Really?” Nadezda pulled herself to her feet slowly, wincing in pain. “I always thought elves were supposed to be… you know, aloof. I beg your pardon, of course.”

Renya startled at the description, but still managed a small shrug. “This one isn’t.”

Nadezda stumbled a few steps and Renya steadied her, offering her arm, which the dwarf took gratefully. “Why is an elf with tattoos all over her face way down here in Dust Town?” she asked as they slowly walked along.

“I am a Grey Warden,” Renya said, ignoring the whispers and pointing fingers following them. “I… am here about a Blight on the surface.”

“Ah. And you need the dwarves’ help. And for that you need a king on the throne. But why,” Nadezda said, tugging on Renya’s arm so they avoided stepping in something wet and smelly. “Are you in Dust Town for any of that?”

“I just wound up down here.” Renya shrugged. “And Bhelen and Harrowmont have not impressed me,” she added with a small smile. It had the desired effect. Nadezda laughed.

“And you wanted to know the truth about this place! Ha! I like you, Grey Warden!”

Renya smiled. It faded quickly when Nadezda abruptly stopped walking, looking at the steps in front of them with apprehension.

“Can you… make it up the stairs?”

“What? Yes, of course, but…” She gave the Warden an odd look. “That’s the road to the Commons.”

“Yes?”

“I… dusters never go to the commons. We’d be spit on. And there’s no decent place to wash in Dust Town…” Nadezda shook her head a little.

Renya gave her arm a reassuring tug, ignoring the bubble of anger that appeared in her chest at Nadezda's words. “You are with a Grey Warden,” she said more confidently than she felt. “No one will say anything.”

Nadezda raised an eyebrow in response, but took a deep breath and began walking up the stairs, Renya still guiding her.

***

They made it to Tapster’s Tavern with little incident. The walk had been full of whispers and stares, but no one had challenged the Grey Warden escorting a “duster,” as Nadezda had referred to herself, through the more affluent area.

“You… you _want_ to eat with her, Ser Warden?” one of the waitresses asked when they entered the tavern.

“Yes. She is assisting me with a very important matter,” Renya said with authority. Nadezda looked impressed as the waitress sighed, nodded, and led them over to a table.

“I was wrong,” the dwarf said once they were seated. “You weren’t kidding about that Grey Warden stuff. I don’t think I’ve ever gone so long without being spat on or shouted at in my life.”

Renya nodded, not sure what else to say. After all, templar might kill Dalish, but at least elves were nice to each other, for the most part.

“But you wanted to know about Orzammar, didn’t you?” Nadezda smiled and leaned across the table. Renya copied her. “Well, you’ll want to know all about Dust Town: run by the Carta up until recently. This other duster, Faren Brosca, killed Jarvia – their newest leader – and her men. What a mess that was… It was unexpected, let me tell you, but it’s nice to be rid of them, even if there isn’t anyone maintaining order there anymore, even if folks want Faren to stay and clean things up. Jarvia is the reason I can’t walk,” she finished darkly. “I’m glad to see the end of her, ancestors forgive me.”

“I can’t imagine,” Renya said with a little shake of her head. “Is that why you have those marks on your face?” she added, pointing to her own vallaslin. “Your ancestors?”

“No; unlike the elves, we don’t have a choice in being branded. This is so anywhere we go in Orzammar, people know that we’re casteless. It gives them the right to treat us like dirt,” Nadezda answered easily, ignoring Renya's shock. She picked up the glass of water in front of her and studied it carefully. “It’s completely clear,” she marveled before taking a sip. A grin split across her face. “I could get used to this, Warden.”

Their food arrived then, and Renya grinned when she saw Nadezda eating with as much enthusiasm as Renya usually did. A few minutes passed filled with only the clinking of plates and spoons.

“But this is the Commons,” Nadezda mentioned through a mouthful of food as if the conversation had never paused. “The dwarves who are in castes live here.” She swallowed. “Tradesmen, artisans, you know. And then there is the Diamond Quarter. That’s where your high-muckers live; Bhelen and Harrowmont and the assembly.” She rolled her eyes. “But Bhelen has taken a casteless as a consort, Faren’s sister, actually, so Faren is trying to petition the king to clean up Dust Town through her… But anyway, I think she just bore Bhelen a son,” she added conspiratorially.

Renya leaned in a little, trying to keep up with the meandering explanation. “You cannot bond to dwarves outside of your caste?”

Nadezda chuckled. “Bond? You mean marry? No, but he’s a prince. He can do what he wants. Like kill his brother and exile his sister.”

“What?”

“That’s what the story is. He wants the throne badly. But his father favored his oldest son, Trian; more traditional, you know? Like Harrowmont. It’s terrible what happened,” she added conversationally, taking another bite of bread. “But Trian was a right arse-pimple. Thought he was better than everyone, the little snot. He wanted to wall off Dust Town, can you believe it?” She shook her head and dipped her bread in a little bowl of gravy. “The princess, Rhelsia, she’s the one I’d want on the throne, but there were some mysterious curcumstances surrounding Trian’s death, and Rhelsia wound up condemned to the Deep Roads. I think she ran to the surface, actually. You should try and find her,” Nadezda added thoughtfully. “She’d be interested in being a Grey Warden, I’m sure.”

“I will keep my eyes open for dwarves on the surface,” Renya said with a little smile.

“Bhelen, now…” Nadezda continued after taking a bite of bread. “He’s a bastard, but he loves Orzammar. He sees what needs to change. He’ll drag this city kicking and screaming into the ninth age if he has to.”

“And Harrowmont?” Renya asked tentatively.

“Also loves Orzammar, but builds his ideas on compromise. He doesn’t care if it’s the right thing, as long as the most amount of dwarves like the idea. But that’s been most of our kings recently, it seems, so casteless stay casteless, and Orzammar pretends like it’s the second age.”

“Hm.”

“He works more in the shadows though, you know? I had a friend…” She paused to take another bite of the tuber stew they were eating. “She got some work in his wash house by covering up the mark on her face – paid a guy, you know? – and she heard things… Harrowmont likes order maintained, and he’ll compromise your belongings away until you’re left standing in your birthday suit, but he’s not above getting rid of competition, either.”

“…I see.”

“Dwarven politics; there’s nothing like it, I’m sure,” Nadezda said with a laugh, seeing Renya’s expression. “There’s a rumor saying that Harrowmont promised the same land to two different families, but others say Bhelen planted the information. And then Harrowmont’s guard just killed that Bhelen supporter last night, but Bhelen’s killed one of Harrowmont’s the night before that… You have great timing, Warden.”

“Yes, it sounds like it.” She wished Leliana was here; she’d be able to make sense of all this nonsense.

“Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

Renya shrugged. “Is there anything else you think I should know?”

Nadezda grinned. “Plenty.” She eyed the empty plates. “But…”

Renya smiled as her stomach rumbled. “Let’s get another round.”

***

Renya’s head was throbbing. Nadezda had proven to be quite willing to explain the caste system to Renya, a complicated set of rules that dictated which dwarves had which rights, and how castes could change. Then she learned about the old dwarven kingdom that once spanned at least half of Ferelden, by Renya’s estimate, before some of the thaigs – dwarven cities like Orzammar – had been overrun by darkspawn. The information had been interesting and overwhelming at the same time, but Renya felt a little better for knowing more about the culture she had just become immersed in.

She had then escorted Nadezda back to Dust Town and left her with a reasonable amount of coin and a newly-purchased blanket. Nadezda had been sad to see her go, but promised that if Renya ever needed assistance she should call on her again. Now, Renya was back in the Commons, where she had found a merchant who would deliver supplies for an expedition to the Deep Roads right to their rooms. She was now perusing the marketplace for her own enjoyment.

“That is a f-f-fine s-sword!” one of the merchants called to her. “D-do you use-use it a l-lot?”

Renya looked at him warily. He laughed.

“D-Don’t w-worry about me-he-he-he,” he said. “It’s just… the l-lyrium. I… I got a l-little too-too close when I was a lad. But I’m still a b-better sm-smith than anyone else you’ll f-find in the Commons!”

“Andaran atish’an, Ser Dwarf,” Renya said politely. She pulled out Duncan’s sword and showed him.

“L-lovely!” he said. “I s-see there are places for runes here. You-you’re a Warden, right?”

“I am.”

“S-so you’ll w-w-want extra damage against th-the d-d-darkspawn?” He showed her something. “Y-yes , th-th-this rune, right here! A-and th-this other one will h-help with i-its overall st-st-strength. It’s l-lyrium based, but h-h-harmless, I p-promise! I can d-d-d-do the same for your d-d-dar’misu!”

“You know the elvish word for this?” Renya asked with interest.

“Of-of course! I am a sw-sw-swordsmith, am I not? I c-c-could tell you th-th-the name of that dagger in l-l-languages l-long forgotten!”

“I am interested. How long will this take?”

“I c-c-can do it right now. Only f-f-five minutes! T-t-ten tops!”

“How much?”

“N-normally I ask for six sovereigns, but s-s-since you’re a W-Warden and all… F-f-four.”

“Ma serannas. Thank you. I might look at your other wares while you work.”

“P-p-please do!” And he set to work on her blades.

Renya looked around his table slowly, smiling as the dwarf hummed to himself as he worked. She found a beautiful mirror with a nature scene depicted on the back, made of gold and precious gems. Next to it lay a pendant twisted into the ancient sign of Mythal.

“That’s a b-beautiful mi-mi-mirror,” the dwarf commented, not looking up from his anvil. “A-and I don’t h-h-have to tell you about the necklace, d-do I? You b-b-being D-Dalish, and-and all!”

“Where do you find all these things?”

“We-we trade with topdwellers,” he said, now inspecting her dar’misu while the longsword cooled. “And-and the elves have-have-have fairer pr-prices than the humans we trade with. We f-f-find lovely things when we trade w-w-with your people! There!” he said. “It just n-n-needs to c-c-cool.” He came back around the stand. “S-so you would like these as well?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Of-of-of course! Five s-s-sovereigns and fourteen s-s-s-s-s-” He sighed. “Silver.”

She handed him six sovereigns. “Keep the extra.”

He stood up a little straighter. “Th-th-thank you, ser! V-v-v-very generous of you! If-if-if you n-need anyth-thing else, come back and see-see me, p-please!”

“I will,” Renya said, taking her blades back from the dwarf and resheathing them. She tucked the gifts into her pack and returned to the tavern, wondering how the rest of her companions were faring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone's been a busy bee, hasn't she? And poor everyone who's hungover... I guess elves just aren't as affected by alcohol, huh?
> 
> And... yay for Lord of the Rings reference? Unfortunately these dwarven politics seem a little more complicated than originally imagined...
> 
>  
> 
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	94. First Things First

“Ah, Renya, you have returned,” Zevran said when the Warden entered the nearly-empty common room. “You missed the joy that was our hungover friends.”

“That is too bad…” She glared at Elgar. “Have you thought about what you did?”

Elgar barked unhappily.

“I found him distasteful as well, but we need him, do you understand?”

The dog barked softly a few times, as if trying to make a point.

“We just need to work together. You do not have to like him.”

He huffed, and Renya nodded with satisfaction. She took some of the food from the table and put it in a bowl for him. “Here you go, Elgar.”

“Woof!”

“We are inside, falon,” Renya said with a small smile.

“Woof.”

“Someone came and delivered supplies while you were out,” Nyviel said, indicating some crates in the corner of the room.

“Good,” Renya said, now piling her own plate with the remaining food on the table. “We will need that when we go into the Deep Roads.”

“When will that happen?”

“We need to meet this… Oghren character again,” she said, shooting a glance at her dog, who looked away guiltily. “And our armor is still at the smith’s.” She twisted the ring on her finger. “Tomorrow at the earliest, I would imagine.”

She glanced around room, smiling when she saw Alistair snoring on the couch across from her. “Where is everyone?”

“Sleeping, most likely,” Zevran said with a shrug.

Wynne sighed, looking up from her book. “That was quite a celebration you had last night,” she commented. Renya grinned at her.

“We have had very little to celebrate recently, Wynne. One little hurrah in the face of so much darkness? This is not a bad thing.”

The mage nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right, Renya.”

Renya ate in silence, listening to Alistair’s snores. After a few more helpings, the large trays were empty. Wynne was occupying herself with one of the books on the side table, and Zevran was quietly sharpening his knives. Renya added her plate to the pile and left a few coppers on the table for the dwarf who would come and take the trays away. She tip-toed to her room and opened the door as quietly as she could, slipping in and shutting the door with hardly a sound. She looked up and smiled.

Leliana was fast asleep, her arm draped over her eyes and mouth hanging open. Her hair was sticking out at odd angles and the tunic she was wearing was riding up on one side. Even like this, Renya thought, she looked wonderful. She crawled onto the bed next to her and sat leaning against the wall, listening to Leliana breathe.

Renya wasn’t sure how much time passed before Leliana took a deep breath and removed her arm from her eyes. The bard yawned and rubbed her face, groaning a little. She looked over and startled when she saw Renya quietly watching her, then smiled.

“Good morning,” Renya said quietly.

“You’re back,” Leliana said with a small stretch.

Renya stroked her hair, trying to not let the callouses on her hands stick to the soft strands. “How are you feeling? Zevran said the morning was... not very fun.”

“Better.” Leliana pulled herself up so she could sit next to the elf. “How did you manage to drink so much and be fine?”

The elf smiled enigmatically. “I will never tell.” She laughed at Leliana’s grumpy expression.

“Why not? Is it a Dalish secret?”

Renya laughed again and then shook her head, clamping his lips shut pointedly.

“I can make you tell me,” Leliana threatened saucily.

“Your bardic abilities have no power here,” Renya replied with a wink.

“We’ll see…” And she pounced on Renya, pinning her to the bed. Renya looked at her with amusement.

“I let you do that.”

“No you didn’t,” Leliana purred, leaning in for a kiss. Renya obliged, wrapping one of her legs around Leliana. The bard smiled into Renya’s lips. “See? I told y-oh!”

For Renya had flipped Leliana back over and was straddling her hips, pinning Leliana’s arms next to her head. She tilted her head without comment. Leliana glared at her.

“I… I let you do that!” she tried. Renya shook her head.

“Nae, ma vhenan.” She leaned forward and kissed Leliana, who tried to copy the same maneuver that Renya had done with no success. Renya watched her, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“Renya? Leliana?” Alistair’s voice called through the door. “Can I… can I come in?”

With another fleeting kiss, Renya released Leliana and swung off the bed. Leliana quickly straightened her tunic and called back, “Come in, Alistair.”

The other Warden came into the room, pulling a comb through his hair. He stopped abruptly when he saw Leliana sitting on the bed.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, turning pink. “I… I didn’t mean…”

“I was just taking a nap, Alistair, it’s fine,” Leliana said kindly, now running a hand through her hair.

“Right. Well…” He turned to Renya. “We’re going to have to see Oghren again, you know,” he said without introduction. “But I don’t think he’s going to want to see certain… members of our group anytime soon.”

An indignant bark echoed into the room.

“I mean it!” Alistair called over his shoulder. “You bite somone in the arse, they’re not going to be too keen on you, trust me. Well, not that I know from experience,” he added with a little shake of his head. “But anyway…”

“Well, we can try again, lethallin.”

“Do you think he’ll come if… if he sees you coming?” Alistair asked tentatively. Renya shrugged.

“I am not the one who bit him. Why shouldn’t he?”

***

“No no no no no!” A very stout dwarf with red hair and a braided moustache shook his head emphatically, waving his hands in front of him. “I don’t care what ya have to say, I’m not interested!”

Alistair and Renya glanced at each other. The elf sighed and rubbed her vallaslin.

“Oghren, we just want to-” Alistair began.

“I’m not listening to anything that elf has to say!”

Renya frowned. She opened her mouth furiously but the dwarf cut her off, too.

“There’s nothing that you can say to me that would grab my interest! I won’t be able to sit down for a week!” he cried, grabbing the back of his leg for emphasis.

“But we’re-” she tried.

“Stop it!”

“Only trying-”

“I’m not listening!”

“It’s for the Grey-”

“It could be for yer sodding Maker and I still wouldn’t care!”

“But-”

“By the Stone, I said no!”

“Branka!” Renya finally exclaimed. The dwarf was startled silent.

“Whaddaya know about Branka?” he asked gruffly.

The Wardens looked at each other. Alistair gave her a little nod and she swallowed. “I know she was a paragon, but not much else…”

“Yeah, she’s a paragon alright. And my wife.” The dwarf took a deep drink from a flask at his side. “Ruined my life. And now Harrowmont and Bhelen think that she’s the fastest way for them to claim the throne.” He eyed the elf and human standing in front of him. “But what’s yer lot got to do with any of this?”

“I do not care who is the durgen’len king,” Renya said flatly. “If that is what you are asking.”

“Well good, neither do I!” the dwarf said with a laugh. He became serious again. “But you’re the only ones willing to actually go to the Deep Roads and find her. Our last living Paragon…” he grumbled. “Whatever your reasons are… I’m the only one who knew what she was after. And I’m the only one who could have a chance of finding her.”

“Yet you have not gone yourself?” Renya asked innocently. She shot Alistair a look at his indignant noise. He took a deep breath and made a little assenting motion with his head.

“I bloody tried!” Oghren said, suddenly angry. “But you need armies of dwarves and weeks worth of supplies to get to her, and neither Bhelen nor Harrowmont knew what she was looking fer. Without that knowledge, ya don’t have a sodding chance!”

“It sounds like you want to find Branka.”

“Are you kidding? She was a bright girl, but she’d add two and two and get fifty sometimes. Still, she was the best thing that ever happened to me. And the worst…” Oghren took another drink from the flask at his side.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Oghren grunted a laugh. “Going into the Deep Roads with a few Wardens sounds like a better idea that waiting around for those worthless nobles to get their act together. No one asks for Oghren’s help, not anymore. Not when the only thing people know about you is that you piss ale and kill little boys for fun…”

Renya felt Alistair staring at her, but ignored him. “What makes you think you can trust me? Why do you want to come with us all of a sudden?”

“What are you on about?” Oghren demanded. “I’m not some dainty elf maiden who sits around and waits for some sodding hero to come by and solve my problems. I’m a warrior!” He nodded in satisfaction as Renya’s hand twitched toward her hunting knife before she stopped herself. “I mean to get her back, and you wouldn’t be down here if you weren’t trying for the same thing!”

“It sounds like we have a deal then, Oghren,” Renya said, catching Alistair’s eye. He nodded, impressed.

“So where is Branka?”

“Branka was looking for the Anvil of the Void,” Oghren whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Might have been the most important invention in Orzammar’s history. The Paragon Caridin built it, and with it, Orzammar enjoyed over a hundred years of peace, protected by its golems forged on the Anvil…”

***

“And Branka wants to find the Anvil and begin making golems again, to restore Orzammar and recover the lost thaigs,” Renya finished. She had brought them all to one of the stone pavilions overlooking a pit of lava in the Commons.

Shale’s head tilted with interest. “While I think this would not be such a bad thing, some small part of me shudders at the thought of this Anvil. I am not sure why.”

“You do not wish to have others like you?” Morrigan asked with interest. “I would think the companionship would be of interest to you.”

“The swamp witch is correct,” Shale replied. “I would be interested in meeting more of my kind. But…” Somehow the stone face of the golem managed to look thoughtful.

“Either way,” Nyviel said, fiddling with the sash on her robes. “We’ll be going to the Deep Roads? Like… very deep?”

“And very road-like,” Zevran added knowingly.

“…and… dark?” Nyviel’s voice was small.

“You seem untroubled by being underground, Renya,” Wynne said now. “I would think that as an elf who has spent her life living in a forest this would be an odd experience for you.”

Renya looked around the Commons before turning back to Wynne. “We have roofs on our aravels,” she said with a shrug. It _was_ strange, now that she thought about it.

Wynne smiled and looked thoughtful. “Yes, I guess you’re right. Careless of me, I apologize.”

“No offense taken, Wynne.”

“Now, are we going to the Deep Roads, or not?” came a gruff voice from behind them. “By the Stone, is that a golem?”

“Yes, I am a golem,” Shale said tersely. “And you are a small, squishy dwarf.”

“By the tits of my ancestors!” Oghren exclaimed. “I never thought I’d see a real one!”

“This is Shale,” Renya said pointedly.

“Yes, it is correct. I have a name, dwarf.”

“Of course you do. So do I. Now, are we going to the Deep Roads or what?”

Somewhere a clock chimed.

“We will set out tomorrow,” Renya said, rising. “We will leave early. For now we will have the evening meal and spent one last night… sleeping on beds,” she finished with a little smile.

“I’ve waited two sodding years,” Oghren said with a shake of his head. “I guess one more night won’t kill me.”

***

“Alistair,” Renya said quietly as they walked back to the tavern. “I do not understand something…”

The other Warden smiled. “What is it?”

“The durgen’len here,” she said, indicating the dwarves wandering around the Commons. “They all respect the Grey Warden order so much. They seem like they are the only ones…”

“Oh. Um, right,” Alistair said. He pulled a token out of his side-pouch and worried it between his fingers. “The Deep Roads are guarded by the dwarves usually, right? There are always darkspawn down there, whether or not there’s a Blight.”

He glanced around and put a hand on her arm to hold her back from the rest of the group. “Secret Warden business, you know,” he whispered.

Renya followed his lead and glanced at their companions, now ahead of them. Leliana was talking animatedly to Zevran at the front of the group, next to Sten, who was ignoring both of them. Morrigan and Wynne were arguing over the existence of the Circle of Magi. Alistair leaned in toward Renya.

“When the taint begins to overpower a Warden, they come to the Deep Roads to do one final battle against the darkspawn… You know, go down with a fight instead of becoming a monster.” He sighed. “The dwarves respect us for it.”

“I see,” Renya said, noticing too late that Nyviel was trying to look like she wasn’t eavesdropping. “When does this happen?”

“It depends,” Alistair said heavily. “It can be up to thirty years after your Joining. But… well I’ve heard rumors that during a Blight it’s much less, depending on how much time you spend around the darkspawn and such. Maybe… fifteen years at the most. That’s when the Calling happens. It’s… irresistible.” He shook his head. “Duncan had begun mentioning his nightmares were coming back. I guess that means he died the way he would have wanted, doesn’t it?”

Renya nodded vaguely. Her focus was on Leliana’s back; the bard’s shoulders were shaking as she laughed at something the Antivan was saying. It wasn’t fair.

“But,” Alistair said now, trying to smile. “Let’s worry about stopping this Blight first, why don’t we?”

“Yes, lethallin,” the elf replied, her stomach tightening. “First things first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! We're _so close_ to the Deep Roads... I'll be gone for a few days, so have a lovely weekend and I'll see you next week!
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us and access extra video-game related thoughts [here](https://www.patreon.com/AmbiGamingCorner) if you're really feeling generous!


	95. Final Night in Tapster's

They ate in Tapster’s Tavern again, and Renya watched as Oghren ran up the bill with his drinking. She supposed she shouldn’t complain, after all the drinking she and her friends had done the night before, but it seemed like this was something Oghren did a lot.

“Another round for me and the Wardens!” he called.

“Just him,” Renya cut in quickly. “We are finished.” They really couldn’t afford for everyone to be incapacitated for a full day again.

“Come on, Renya,” he said, slapping her on the back. “Just another drink. For new friends.”

Renya sighed. “Fine.” She also needed this dwarf on her side.

Two tankards of disgusting dwarven ale later, Renya managed to convince Oghren she truly was finished drinking and she was going back to her room. She joined her friends as they sat in the common area. Zevran produced a small deck of playing cards and began to play wicked grace with Alistair. Renya watched with interest, thinking this was a game that would be advantageous for her to learn. Leliana sat down very close to her, and the elf, noticing this, put her hand gently on the bard’s leg. Leliana loosely looped their arms together, resting her hand on top of Renya’s.

“Ah, and this round goes to the handsome Warden,” Zevran said, leaning back.

“Why?” Renya asked, staring at the cards on the table.

“Two swords, three cups,” Zevran said, pointing to the cards Alistair had placed on the table. “Beats my hand of three wands.”

They played again, Leliana watching the two players closely. She smiled and leaned in close to Renya’s ear. “Alistair has no good cards,” she murmured. Renya tilted her head almost imperceptibly and began to watch the game with more interest.

Sure enough, when the round ended, Zevran had won. Renya turned to Leliana.

“How did you do that?”

The bard grinned. “I’ll never tell.”

Renya laughed. “Remind me to never play this game with you…”

“Join us, Renya. We’re only playing for matchsticks,” Alistair offered.

She didn’t really know what that meant, but nodded. Squeezing Leliana’s knee briefly, she got up and pulled another chair over to the table. Zevran dealt her in.

“Leliana…?” Nyviel came over and sat down in Renya’s vacated seat as Zevran, Alistair, and Renya played another round, swapping stories about their respective childhoods.

The younger elf gripped her hands tightly in her lap. “Are we really going to the Deep Roads?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I… it’s…”

The bard smiled. “What is it, Nyviel?”

Nyviel shook her head. Leliana nodded with understanding. “We’re traveling with Grey Wardens. The darkspawn don’t stand a chance. We’ll be as safe there as we are anywhere else.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Leliana watched Renya play with the two men. She seemed to have quickly mastered the basics, although she was still losing spectacularly to Zevran. Her eyes fell onto the scar on the side of her face, now curved as the elf laughed, and then traced down to the Keeper’s ring on Renya’s finger as the elf tried to hold her cards the way Alistair was showing her.

“Because Renya is here,” she said softly to the young elf next to her. “Everything will be alright.”

“It’s not fair, you know,” Nyviel said softly.

“What isn’t?”

“How much has fallen on her. Them, I mean,” she replied with a nod at the two Wardens.

“We’re all in this together,” Leliana reminded her.

Nyviel shook her head, thinking of the Calling and Garahel falling to his death. She watched Renya sadly. “Yes, but-”

“And I win!” Renya exclaimed in surprise, triumphantly throwing her cards on the table and scooping all the matchsticks toward her. Leliana clapped. Nyviel fell silent. She was sure Renya had shot her a look across the table.

“I think I will quit while I am ahead,” the Warden continued when Zevran offered to deal her in again. “Or, at least while I am not too far behind anymore. Here, Alistair,” she said, pushing her matchsticks over onto his pile.

“Well I’m not sure _that_ is fair,” Zevran said with mock indignance. Alistair smiled at him smugly.

“He needs all the help he can get,” Renya commented, nudging Alistair as she passed.

“Hey! I wasn’t losing before, you know!”

“I know, lethallin. Sleep well,” she said, walking toward her room.

She hadn’t imagined the look, Nyviel decided, seeing Renya glance at her again as Leliana rose from the couch. As if Nyviel needed further assurance, as she walked passed Renya muttered, “Don’t.”

“Ma nuvenin,” Nyviel whispered back so only Renya could hear. She sadly watched her walk away before giving herself a little shake and joining the card game.

***

Leliana stretched luxuriously. “This bed is so comfortable, isn’t it?” she asked, sitting on it. She straightened the tunic she was going to sleep in.

“Mhm.” Renya smiled from where she was sitting on her bedroll. She had Nyviel’s wound pencil out, and a blank book she had purchased in the market. Next to it was the paper Nyviel had written the alphabet on.

“Aren’t you tired?” Leliana asked. Her heart was pounding as she watched the elf sitting on the floor. Her thoughts went to the feeling of Renya on top of her, holding her to the bed, and a pleasant jolt shot through her stomach.

“I am,” Renya said, carefully making a mark on one of the pages. She looked up. “Why?”

“I…” Leliana faltered. Even now, Renya was not someone she was able to read. She gave herself a little shake; no, she was not trying to manipulate her. Not with this. Maker, no. “I… I just wanted to talk to you.”

Renya smiled. “I have missed our nighttime chats,” she said, closing the book and putting it next to her. “I am glad they have started up again.”

The bard grinned. Butterflies were fluttering in her stomach. “It… it has been some time since I left Lothering,” she began, hardly knowing how she was going to finish her thought. “I had no idea what to expect when I left the cloister to follow you. I walked where the Maker led me,” she added shyly, looking down at her lap. “And… and He rewarded me for my faith.” She smiled and glanced at Renya. “I found you.”

“I am glad you are here, too,” Renya replied softly. Leliana smiled and looked down at her hands, pleased. The elf arched an eyebrow. “Are you saying I am a gift from your Maker now?”

Leliana chuckled. “Something like that. The Maker wants His children to be happy… would He have created in us the capacity to love if He did not intend for us to find it?” Leliana took a deep breath; she had to stop talking to Renya about the Maker, right now. But Renya surprised her.

“Then… if that is so, then I must thank your Maker for bringing us together.” The elf was staring into Leliana’s eyes. A pleasant shiver went through Leliana at the look.

“You don’t know how good it makes me feel to hear you say that,” she replied with a shy smile. “But…” She took a deep breath. “But it’s getting late. I think I might… turn in. I can’t help thinking how soft and warm and comfortable this bed is.” She smoothed the blanket next to her with her hand.

Renya smiled at her. “Melava somniar. Sleep well,” she said kindly. She picked up the blank book again. “I am going to stay up a little later and keep trying to write in this journal.”

“I didn’t know you kept a journal,” Leliana said with interest, distracted for the moment. “Or wrote in it regularly.”

“I do not,” Renya admitted. “I am… I am trying to teach myself to write. And today… these past two days have been very special and I want to remember them.”

“Oh.” Leliana’s thoughts were flying. “Well,” she said with a little toss of her head. “Perhaps you could join me up here,” she offered, her heart racing. “I could watch you write. Help you if you need it. I could give suggestions. ‘Dear Journal,’” she said, miming writing, hardly believing her daring. “‘Leliana has shown much affection for me, even asked me to come to bed with her. But, alas, subtlety is lost on me.’”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh,” Leliana said with a smile and a touch of flirtation. “Now she gets it.”

Renya took a steadying breath. Her thoughts wer racing… _Dalish elf, human bonding, the Calling, end the Blight, kill the archdemon, you can’t do this to her…_

“But I am a Grey Warden,” she finally said. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Leliana stood up and walked over to where Renya was sitting. She reached out her hands, and the elf let herself be pulled to her feet. For the first time, Renya noticed the very small height difference between them; it was still odd to think that some humans were barely taller than she. Her heart raced as she looked into the blue eyes of the bard. Leliana rested her hand on Renya’s shoulder gently and tentatively leaned in toward her. Renya brushed her cheek with her fingers and closed the distance between them.

“Yes. I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” Leliana murmured when they came apart.

“But…”

Renya stared at Leliana, heart and mind running faster than she ever remembered them going. Again, her thoughts strayed to the clearing in the forest. Yes, this was what she wanted, too.

_But…_

As she stared into the blue eyes, now looking at her apprehensively, Renya stopped caring what the Dalish taught. She stopped thinking about the archdemon. And, for the first time, her thoughts did not stray to Merrill.

Maybe Leliana didn’t want to be bonded to her, and instead just wanted to engage in an act that she said she missed from her life as a bard. Maybe this act was different to humans. She didn’t care. She loved Leliana. And she wanted this, wanted her. Leliana didn’t know what it would cost Renya, and at the moment, Renya didn’t care, either.

 _One selfish act,_ Renya thought, ignoring Ashalle’s voice in her head telling her she should never act impulsively on her own desires.

 _One selfish act,_ she repeated stubbornly, now dismissing Marathari’s lessons on putting the good of the clan first.

 _One selfish act._ She should be allowed that much after everything she had been forced to give, shouldn’t she?

_Just one selfish act…_

“Then this is not an offer I can turn down.”

Leliana’s face melted into a smile that looked almost relieved. “Good,” she said, taking Renya’s hand and walking backwards toward the bed. “Now come with me before I lose my patience,” she added playfully, letting a hint of demand creep in to her voice. Renya arched an eyebrow at the tone, but smiled all the same.

Leliana sat on the bed, and Renya twisted to sit next to her, pulling the bard in for a kiss. Leliana closed her eyes and let herself get lost in it, feeling Renya’s hand at her waist and her fingers in her hair. Leliana was quickly overwhelmed by the familiar smell of forest air and pine needles, and she wrapped her arms around Renya and pulled her closer.

Renya pressed herself into the bard, briefly wondering what that lovely, sugary, flowery scent was that Leliana carried with her, before becoming distracted by Leliana’s hands creeping around her. Leliana gripped her shoulders as Renya began to kiss up her neck; the elf settled on the soft spot beneath Leliana’s ear, and the bard sighed contentedly. The breath tickled Renya’s ear, and she smiled as Leliana gave her a little squeeze.

The elf kissed her way down Leliana’s neck and up the other side, and Leliana turned her head to expose as much of her skin as possible. Renya’s hands became braver, and began to slowly trail down Leliana’s body, eventually coming to the hem of Leliana’s tunic. She pushed her fingers up onto the bard’s stomach, which tightened at her touch. Leliana pulled away a little, and Renya drew her hands back quickly, an apology already forming.

Leliana held a finger up to Renya’s lips to silence her, before she reached down and slowly pulled her tunic off, keeping her eyes on Renya. She smiled when she saw the elf’s expression. Green eyes flitted up and locked onto hers.

_Maker…_

Slowly, she brought Renya’s hands up to her breastband, and the elf began to tentatively remove it, encouraged by Leliana’s smile and the smooth Orlesian hands that helped her when she hesitated. It fell away, and Leliana threw it to the floor. Before Renya could react, Leliana pulled her close again, scooted them both higher on the mattress, and leaned against the pillows. A soft humming noise escaped her throat as Renya’s fingers whispered along her skin.

Renya’s hands cupped Leliana’s breasts gently, and she slowly began to rub them. Leliana pressed into her, kissing her fiercely as she dragged her fingers along the pointed ears, eventually twisting around to kiss along the ear’s ridge. Renya sighed happily, which turned into a pleased groan as Leliana dragged her tongue up to the very tip.

The elf pulled away, and Leliana felt a rush of disappointment as the hands disappeared from her breasts to rest on her waist. Disappointment was quickly replaced by nervousness as she saw Renya staring down at her. She suddenly became self-conscious.

 _Orlesians are supposed to have smooth, flawless skin,_ a voice reminded her now. _Once upon a time, people thought you were pretty. But that was a lifetime ago, before the fighting, before the knives, the whips… before the Chantry fasts… And who could desire a scarred body like yours? Look: proof you are broken… unworthy…_

She watched Renya nervously as the elf continued to look down at her. She was well aware of what the elf was seeing. Criss-crossed across her body were scars from knives applied with surgeon-like precision, which twisted around her sides to meet the whip marks on her back, currently hidden as Leliana lay back on the pillows. The bard stared at Renya, trying to catch her eye. The elf’s expression was unreadable as her sharp eyes darted around Leliana’s body, taking in the full picture.

“Renya, I… I should have said something before. I’m…”

“Lelia…” Renya finally breathed with a smile. She brought her gaze up to the blue eyes staring apprehensively at her. “You are so beautiful.”

“…oh…”

Renya leaned forward and gently kissed Leliana, stroking her cheek, before kissing the scar over Leliana’s collarbone. She dragged her lips along its length and showered it with soft kisses. Leliana placed her hands on Renya’s shoulders as the elf slowly and meticulously kissed her way down her body, kissing each of her scars and the spaces in between. Leliana closed her eyes, her breathing increasing as Renya moved lower and lower. She leaned back against the pillows, sighing as Renya’s lips brushed against her skin. Renya paused, and Leliana opened her eyes. The elf was staring at the scar just below her ribs; it was larger than some of the others. That was the one left from where… she had been stabbed. Leliana refused to even think that woman’s name. Not when she was like this, here with Renya.

Renya looked up at her, her fingers dragging along the skin gently. Leliana never realized how ticklish she was there. She stared into the bright green eyes, waiting, not noticing she was holding her breath. The elf smiled and leaned down to kiss this scar, too, and Leliana lay back on the pillows with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tum te tum...
> 
>  
> 
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	96. Beautiful

“Renya… Renya…?”

“Emm’andaran. I am here.” She felt Leliana smile against her lips.

“I… I… we….”

“I love you, Lelia,” Renya murmured, breathing heavily. They were moving together faster now. “I love you…”

“I love you. Oh, Renya. I love you! Tell me… my love, tell me…”

“I am yours. Ma vhenan…”

Leliana moaned loudly, burying her face in Renya’s neck and kissing her as a pleasantly tight feeling grew in her abdomen. She wrapped her arms and legs more firmly around the elf, feeling the strong, muscular back underneath her fingers and breathing in the very familiar and much-beloved scent of pine and fresh air, now mingling with sweat. Her movements became smaller, tighter, faster, and Renya responded in kind. Leliana smiled, hearing Renya’s rapid breathing and feeling the small twitches of Renya’s ear as her breath tickled it and she brushed her lips against it.

Maker, she felt so good. And, for a moment, Leliana was amazed at how such rough, calloused hands could be so gentle and soft.

“Renya…my love… yes… oh… _oh_ … yes… Maker, yes…like that…like _that_ …”

“Danemah…vhenan…”

Suddenly Leliana became very still, and Renya held her close, leaving her on the peak with taut muscles and baited breath. Then, all at once, Renya pressed into her. Leliana cried out, her back arching and her head thrown back as she writhed under Renya. She heard Renya murmuring her name into her ear before they both collapsed onto the bed.  
  
Leliana held Renya close, both of them breathing heavily into the other. Renya kissed her sweetly, smiling when she felt Leliana’s legs give one final shudder.

“You are so beautiful…” Renya whispered into Leliana’s lips. Leliana smiled, her eyes closed. They stayed like that for a few silent moments, entwined with each other, before the bard unhooked her legs from the elf. She sighed as Renya finally removed her hand. Leliana kissed Renya again, and Renya brushed her cheek gently before pulling away. A little flutter of panic went through Leliana as Renya sat up, until she saw the elf simply fiddling with the blankets before lying down and wrapping her arms around Leliana again. Leliana snuggled into her immediately, tangling their legs together. Renya saw the expression on the bard’s face and looked at her curiously.

“What is it?”

“I… I thought you were going to…” She shook her head. “Nevermind. That was amazing.”

“You are amazing.” Renya grinned. “I see why elves refer to humans as quick children, though.”

Leliana gave her a look. “What do you mean?”

“I was too slow for you… yes?”

“Oh… you…” Leliana kissed her, too happy to come up with a saucy reply fast enough. “Is that how elves… I mean… You like it like… Maker…”

Renya chuckled and kissed her to silence her. “When elves were still immortal, greetings would take a decade. Imagine what this would have been like.” She winked. “And Dalish try to preserve the old ways.”

Leliana smiled and cuddled into Renya. “I did like it. A _lot,_ ” she admitted, gently stroking Renya’s ear. “I just wanted…”

“Me, too.”

They lay quietly for a while, Renya tracing patterns on Leliana’s back while Leliana stroked Renya’s ear, content with each other’s company. Renya’s motions became slower and slower, until her hand finally came to rest on Leliana’s back.

“I love you,” Leliana whispered a few silent minutes later. There was a long pause. She closed her eyes, figuring Renya had fallen asleep.

“I love you, too, Lelia.”

Leliana yawned and snuggled into the elf. She rubbed her hand along Renya’s arm. “And you’re so strong…” she murmured. She fell asleep smiling, not noticing the one lone tear that trickled down Renya’s face.

***

Leliana woke hours later, still smiling. She looked contentedly at the elf lying next to her. Renya was fast asleep, breathing peacefully, her one arm wrapped loosely around Leliana, and her other hand covering the one Leliana had placed on her shoulder. She took the time to study Renya, watching her dream; the elf’s eyelids were fluttering. Her eyes made their way down her figure. Her whole body seemed to be made of muscle, which wasn’t surprising, considering she was an elven warrior who had lived in a forest her whole life.

Her skin was covered with more scars than Leliana had expected, though. In addition to the ones on her face and ear, and the all-too-familiar ones on her abdomen, Renya sported a number on her upper arms that Leliana supposed were from other attacks she had survived, or possibly from hunting. One in particular looked like she had been grabbed by strong fingers that had gouged out some of her skin. A few scars looked like they had come from punctures, possibly from arrows. Leliana had also seen what looked like deep claw marks across one of her shoulder blades, and… Maker, it looked like some very large animal had bitten her on the leg once a long time ago. Leliana wondered if Renya would remember where all the scars had come from, but this was quickly followed by the thought that maybe Renya would prefer not to remember.

But it didn’t matter, Leliana thought, going back to watching Renya sleep. The scars showed she had lived, had survived, and Leliana, for a moment, understood how Renya could see the scars on her body and still call her beautiful. The elf breathed deeply, and Leliana froze, wondering if Renya was going to wake. She didn’t, and Leliana went back to studying her. She smiled when she saw a bite-mark by Renya’s collarbone; even though she had been so attentive and tender, Renya had seemed to like it a little rough. Leliana made a mental note for next time.

_“Oh… I… you… tell me.... tell me I’m…” She couldn’t believe how needy this kind, wonderful elf was making her feel. And she didn’t care, either, because it was Renya. Renya, she thought with a smile as she traced her fingers along the other woman’s cheek. She wanted to get lost in those green eyes, be overwhelmed by them._

_“You are so beautiful, Lelia. And so precious to me… Do you know that?” Renya purred, pulling another groan from Leliana as she kissed her, and earning another bite of the bard’s fingernails in her back. The elf hummed, pleased._

_“Yes, oh yes, my love…”_

_Renya kissed her in response. Leliana shuddered and sighed as the elf continued to tease her with a patience no other lover had ever shown her. She held Renya close, gasping and murmuring into her neck. Renya grinned at the Orlesian words that bubbled out of Leliana, and hissed in pleasure when she felt teeth above her collarbone._  
  
_“Mm… You really_ do _bite,” she said playfully, her voice low in Leliana’s ear._

 _“I…_ ah _… will do it again, too, if I must…”_

_“Is that a promise?” Renya murmured with a feral grin before swooping in and kissing her again. Leliana pressed herself into it with desire and want that she hadn’t known in a long time._

Leliana couldn’t contain her smile as she remembered how Renya had held her. The elf had treated her like she was made of porcelain – delicate and precious – gently caressing her and murmuring loving reassurances in her ear. After the much rougher lovemaking of Marjolaine, or the hedonistic pleasure that often came from life as a bard, each of Renya’s tender movements seemed to stitch Leliana back together in a way she hadn’t realized she had been torn.

_Leliana let herself get lost in Renya’s teasing touches, felt her own hips moving as if by their own volition, felt herself pressing into Renya desperately. She put her hand on Renya’s face, dragging her fingers along her skin while turning her head so they could look at each other again._

_“It’s not enough,” Leliana murmured breathlessly, writhing a little. Not enough, no. It was maddening. It was tantalizing. It was wonderful, this place where Renya was keeping her. It was somewhere between the earth and the heavens. “It’s…oh… it’s…” She moaned as Renya made another movement with her hips. “Renya… my love… it’s… I… I need…”_

_A moment later she cried out, digging her fingers into Renya’s back again as the elf responded, finally slipping inside the writhing bard. Briefly, Leliana expected the touch to turn rough and hard, but Renya was unendingly gentle, murmuring into Leliana’s ear and kissing her while cradling her in her other arm._

_“Is this alright?” the elf whispered. The bard gasped; no one had ever asked her that before. She nodded._

_“Yes, oh… my love…”_

_Maker, how she wanted this…_

She let her eyes trace over the vallaslin on Renya’s forehead and down the line of her jaw. Renya had a little smile playing on her lips, and Leliana resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss her. This was where she belonged. This was all she wanted. She had jumped, and someone had been there to catch her, someone she knew would always be there. Leliana sighed contentedly as Renya began to stir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the scene - No interruptions, finally!
> 
> I think my favorite part is Leliana seeing all the scars on Renya's body and so easily accepting them. Also, Renya does know where each of them came from, and except for the puncture/arrow wounds, so do we! Anyway...
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	97. More Time

Renya opened her eyes and saw Leliana watching her.

“Hello,” Leliana said, smiling at the elf.

“Good morning,” Renya replied, dragging her fingers along Leliana’s back, eliciting a little shiver and chuckle from the bard. “Did you sleep well?”

Leliana nodded. “Very well. I’ve actually been watching you sleep.” She stroked Renya’s hair. “Did you know that your eyelids flutter when you dream?” She smiled. “And you have such pretty eyelashes.”

“My… my eyelashes?”

“Mmhmm. They remind me of little butterflies. I want to catch them and keep them in a jar.”

Renya kissed her. “Alright. Where is the jar?”

Leliana laughed musically and Renya smiled. “I’m so happy. Truly blissful. I haven’t slept so well since I was forced to flee Orlais.” She stroked Renya’s cheek. “Knowing you will be the last thing I see before I sleep and the first thing I see when I awake brings me no small amount of comfort.”

Renya kissed her forehead. Leliana continued.

“I feel safe in your arms. Safe, loved, and accepted.” She cupped Renya’s cheek and kissed her. “This is where I belong.”

A kiss was her response.

Leliana smiled, then pulled away and sat up on the bed. “I suppose I should get up. We have a long day ahead of us.”

Renya watched her sit on the side of the bed and stretch, noticing the long scars tracing down her back. Creators, there were a lot of them. Her eyes traveled down the pale skin to Leliana’s waist, and back up, tracing over each curve with her eyes and memorizing each freckle and line. She sat up and scooted behind her.

“What is the hurry?”

Leliana looked at her over her shoulder with a little smile. “Come on. Darkspawn await with baited breath for you to put them out of their misery!”

Renya traced her fingers down Leliana’s back, making the bard shiver again. She leaned in. “And ignore the beautiful woman in my bed?” she asked, close to Leliana’s ear. Her hands came to rest on Leliana’s waist. “I think not.”

“What are you…oh! I see… Mmm…” Leliana closed her eyes as Renya began to kiss her neck and back. Arms looped around her, and she covered Renya’s hands with her own. “I suppose the darkspawn will just have to wait a bit longer…”

***

“Renya…” Leliana scolded half-heartedly as the elf wrapped her arms around her from behind and kissed her shoulders. Goosebumps rose on her skin and she shivered. “We have to get going. The others will wonder where we’ve gone.”

“No, they will not,” Renya said, still kissing the soft skin. “Alistair will wonder.” A kiss. “Everyone else will know…” Another kiss. “…exactly…” Kiss, kiss. “…where we are and what we have been doing.”

“I’m half-dressed, look… Renya!” Leliana giggled, scrunching her neck a little as the elf kissed behind her ear.

Renya rested her head on Leliana’s shoulder. “We really should go, shouldn’t we?” she asked sadly.

“We should. There will be more time for this, though, my love. I promise.”

Renya released her with a sad smile. “I hope so.”

Leliana looked at her curiously, but Renya had started putting on the rest of her armor, humming to herself. Leliana laid a hand on Renya’s arm.

“Let me help you,” she said quietly. The elf smiled and nodded, and Leliana began picking up the pieces of Grey Warden armor and fastening them to Renya. She let her fingers linger on the chestpiece, adjusting it minutely so her fingers brushed against Renya’s neck. When she put on the thick leather gloves, she almost couldn’t help but let her fingers drag along the skin of the elf’s palm. She pressed her lips onto the insides of Renya’s wrists, smiling when she felt fingers brush her cheek in response.

Once they were both dressed, they packed up their things. Renya held out a hand to waylay Leliana before she opened the door.

“So… first my ears, then my hair, and now my eyelashes?” she asked playfully. “I think I have made you go crazy.”

Leliana raised her eyebrows. “You think I’m crazy now?” she said without missing a beat. “You thought I was crazy when we first met!” She laughed and Renya joined in. “See? Nothing has changed.”

But Renya shook her head and leaned in to kiss Leliana one last time. “No. Everything has changed.”

***

Renya dragged her gear into the common room and looked around.

“Where’s Oghren?”

Alistair sat down on one of the couches with a plate piled high with breakfast foods. “No idea. Still drunk, I’d imagine,” he said with a slight eye-roll. He looked at the elf carefully. “You look smug. What’s going on?”

Nyviel came in then, stretching and yawning. “Good morning.” She watched Leliana add her equipment to the pile and sighed. “Today’s the day, isn’t it?”

“It sodding well is!” came a gruff voice from the doorway. Renya and Alistair, now both shoveling in their breakfast, glanced at each other.

“So, are we going or what?” Oghren asked, crossing his arms. His eyes looked a little bloodshot.

“In a few minutes,” Zevran offered lightly. “As soon as we are finished eating, friend. Then we will leave on this quest to save your Branka.” He grinned winningly. “Please, come and break the fast with us.”

Elgar growled as Oghren sat down and accepted the plate Zevran offered him. The dwarf eyed him warily.

“Elgar. Mana,” Renya said warningly. The dog grunted and lay down again. Renya patted his head. An awkward silence fell around the table in the common area, punctuated by the clinking of spoons on bowls.

“So Harrowmont and Bhelen are both interested in Branka’s return. They seem to think she will be able to crown one of them king?” Alistair asked, trying to make conversation.

Oghren grunted. “Yes, I know. As a paragon, she outranks the whole assembly. I just want her back safe and sound, I don’t care about who’s the sodding king.”

“Neither do I…” grumbled Renya, annoyed that she was being dragged into matters in which she was not qualified to intervene. Oghren looked at her curiously.

“You’re saying that again. But you’re going into the Deep Roads anyway?”

The Warden sighed. “We need help fighting the Blight, and only the King can grant us troops,” she said as Leliana sat next to her. She studied Oghren’s reaction carefully. “The darkspawn have broken through to the surface.”

Oghren shook his head. “By the Stone…” he murmured in his gruff voice. “I thought I overheard someone talking about that a few days ago. Must’ve been one of the guards. Or some gossip…”

“It was me,” Renya said testily. “And it was yesterday. You heard me talking to the guards. That’s why you came over to talk.”

“Oh. Right.” Oghren rubbed his moustache thoughtfully. “Ancestors help us, then, if that’s all true.”

“It’s true,” the two Wardens said together.

“Then the sooner we go, the better,” Oghren said with a shrug. He stood up and downed a glass of water in one gulp. He shuddered. “Don’t you have anything stronger?”

“No,” Renya replied flatly.

“I think we can at least finish eating breakfast,” Leliana said quietly, refilling Renya’s plate with more root vegetables and biscuits. She plucked some of the strange dwarven fruit from the tray, sampled it, and then added a few pieces to the elf’s plate, as well.

“It’s a good thing she’s a Grey Warden,” Nyviel said, elbowing Leliana once she had sat down next to Renya again. “Otherwise you’d make her fat.”

Sten was likewise eating a healthy amount of breakfast, and glanced up. “Warriors must sustain themselves so they can be ready for battle. While the Beresaad are trained to fight without this sustenance, it is important to take advantage when the resources are available.”

“Listen to the qunari,” Alistair said.

“Kadan is right to partake of this, before we venture to the Deep Roads. We do not know what awaits us,” Sten added.

“It was… I was just joking,” Nyviel said. “Right, we have to be ready for the… the Deep Roads.” She suddenly looked ill.

“More mountain to hover dangerously above our heads,” Morrigan muttered to herself, staring at the floor.

“Oh yes,” Zevran said with a grin. “Just think of all of that lovely rock, full of mystery, dangling precariously over us, full of secrets and adventure,” he teased.

“And crushing weight,” Morrigan snapped back at him.

“Please don’t,” Nyviel commented, wringing her hands.

“It’s not so bad,” Oghren said roughly. “All that stone. You can feel the weight of the earth all around you, and…”

“…not helping,” Nyviel interrupted him, now gripping her knees. Leliana patted her shoulder and tried to give her an encouraging smile.

Wynne was holding her forehead, looking exasperated. She caught Renya’s similar expression and smiled. The group finished eating.

“Are we ready?” Renya asked.

“Yes, finally,” Oghren grumbled.

A few minutes later, everyone had shouldered their packs. They left Tapster’s Tavern and found Shale, who was staring out over the lava pit, and made their way to the entrance to the Deep Roads.

“Whoa there, stranger,” the guard said to them as he raised his hand to stop them. “No one is allowed to enter the Deep Roads, not without permission from a deshyr.”

“These are the Grey Wardens Prince Bhelen told us about,” one of the other men said. “He gave them permission to enter.”

“Oh.” The captain of the guard lowered his hand. “Well, welcome, Warden. I wish I could offer you more assistance, but my guard post is here. All of Orzammar relies on us to hold this line.”

“I understand,” Renya said with a nod. “Thank you.”

“Best of luck with your quest, Warden. Orzammar needs to be united under a king now, more than ever.” He stepped aside.  
With a glance as Alistair, the two Wardens walked past the guards and into the Deep Roads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so they go...
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	98. Collapse and Protection

“Caridin’s Cross,” Oghren said once they had walked down a steep incline. The path opened up into a great corridor of carved stone. “We’ll have to follow this path,” he said, pointing.

Alistair pulled out some maps. “Bhelen’s steward gave these to me,” he commented vaguely, studying the map and glancing around the room. Renya and Leliana shared a look. Renya put a hand on Alistair’s arm and eased it down.

“There’s only one way to go, lethallin,” she said with a smile.

“What? Oh, right,” Alistair grumbled, seeing the collapsed corridor in front of them and the dug-out pathway to their right.

“We’ll have to climb through this way to get to the Aeducan Thaig.” Oghren pointed at the blown-out hole in the wall. “That much I remember without any maps.”

They had barely clambered through when they found their path blocked by a group of about twenty very angry-looking dwarves.

“Well, well, well,” the one in the middle said. “Look who we have here. Bhelen’s new toady.”

Renya arched an eyebrow. Even if she didn’t understand the word, she caught the tone.

“Toady?”

“I’ll turn _you_ into a toad-y,” Nyviel muttered from behind Renya, drawing her staff.

The dwarf glanced around at the dwarves standing around him. “Let’s show these outsiders what it means to meddle in the affairs of the dwarves. For Lord Harrowmont, the true king!”

Immediately, the party was swarmed by the short, but stout, warriors. Alistair bellowed and banged his sword against his shield, and Sten roared as ferociously as he could, but they were no match for the angry dwarves fighting for their lord and began to be pressed back.

“Protect the mages!” Renya yelled, but she needn’t have bothered. They were being pushed together, and soon they were standing pressed against a wall with Morrigan, Nyviel, and Wynne behind them. Shale had been brought down by a large armored animal, and was fighting to regain her footing. Elgar was growling at lunging at the animal, a huge gash in his side.

“Sod off!” Oghren bellowed, knocking the pommel of his great axe into one of the dwarves.

“Warden?”

“Do it!” Renya called back, not knowing or, at that moment, caring what Morrigan was about to do.

There was a bright flash of light, and something heavy hit into Renya’s back, knocking her forward. A giant black bear rushed out from where the mages were standing and began to attack the dwarves, who scattered at the sudden appearance of the large animal.

“For the Grey Wardens!” Alistair bellowed, raising his shield and following in her wake, knocking dwarves aside left and right.

Music. Renya shook her head, trying to clear it as she fought behind Morrigan. It was getting louder. Closer… _Creators, not now…_

“Darkspawn!” she and Alistair cried at the same time just before a horde of the creatures joined the fray. Luckily, the dwarves turned their attention onto the monsters, enabling the Wardens’ group to gain ground as they, too, began to fight the creatures.

“Halam sahlin!” Nyviel yelled. She planted her feet firmly and thrust her staff at the group of darkspawn, freezing them where they stood. In one swift movement, she spun and cracked her staff into the head of a genlock that had come up behind her, only for him to be stabbed by Leliana.

Renya was standing in front of Wynne, trying to keep her protected from the darkspawn and dwarves who were still attacking. The mage was trying to heal the companions as they became injured, but the fight was so ferocious that she soon began to tire. She leaned on her staff, breathing heavily.

Sten, Shale, Elgar, and Morrigan – as a bear – were fighting side by side, and soon the numbers of darkspawn and dwarves began to dwindle.

“Andruil’s bow,” Renya panted when the darkspawn and dwarves all finally lay dead. “What was that?”

“A nightmare,” Alistair quipped, wiping his brow. Morrigan transformed back into her human form and spat out a piece of clothing, looking disgusted. Renya looked at her with alarm.

“’Tis of the dwarven fools’, nothing more,” she said, catching Renya’s expression. “You must not worry about me so, Warden.”

“Sodding nobles. Sodding darkspawn,” Oghren grumbled. He swung his axe over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

They trekked on. And on. Everywhere they went, Renya glanced around, trying to find the source of the music that continued to play incessantly in her head.

“It’s getting louder,” she mumbled to no one in particular. Leliana looked at her with concern.

“Are you alright?”

“Up ahead,” she replied, pulling out her swords. Another swarm of darkspawn charged up through the depths of the tunnels ahead of them. Too late, Renya saw one of them wielding a mage’s staff. She was thrown up into the air, feeling like she was being crushed.

It was terrible. She couldn’t scream or move at all; everything about her existence was pain. And the darkspawn had noticed her floating high above her companions and were shooting at her with arrows. With her head arched back because of the hex, she knew it was only a matter of time before one hit its mark.

“You shall not take her!” Morrigan cried. She fired a spell at the darkspawn with the staff. He deflected it, but the explosion that resulted shook the ground and echoed in their ears. The witch fired again, causing another tremble to shake through the cavern, as Leliana quickly resheathed her daggers and swung Renya’s bow off her back. Morrigan held out her hands, concentrating a beam of energy between them, massing it into a small ball. Her face wore a very ugly look as she glanced at the hurlock with the staff.

“No! The cavern!” Zevran cried, too late. The two women took careful aim and fired at the same time. An arrow struck the hurlock’s neck as Morrigan’s spell crashed into him.

Another explosion rocked the cavern. Rocks began to fall from the ceiling. Nyviel screamed and dove out of the way of a falling boulder.

“No no no no no…” she muttered to herself.

The hex faded and Renya was finally free, falling to the ground with a heavy crunching of armor. The battle continued around her. Vaguely she was aware of Alistair bellowing and Morrigan casting spells. In the middle of the chaos, Wynne crouched over her.

“Hush,” she said, even though Renya was not making any sound. She rubbed something cool into the elf’s neck and handed her a green potion. “Drink this.”

Renya’s hands shook as she took the potion and drank it. It tasted disgusting, but as she drank the pain faded and her strength returned. By the time she was able to stand up again, the battle was over. A low rumble caught everyone’s attention.

“We need to get out of here now,” Nyviel said in a panic.

“Indeed,” Shale agreed. “I do not enjoy the idea of being buried under stone for the rest of time. I think that will be most boring.”

More rumbling shook the air around them, and a few small pebbles fell from the ceiling.

“Go!” Renya yelled as the ceiling began to collapse. They made it to another pathway hewn out of solid rock as half of the cavern behind them collapsed, shooting dust and rocks after them. When the air cleared, they saw that only a small opening remained; they would have to go single-file on their way back, if this path was still open by then.

“I have changed my mind,” Renya commented when she had finished coughing. She stared at the rubble. “Maybe we do not really need the support from the durgen’len.”

“What about Branka?” Oghren said heatedly.

“What about Nyviel?” Leliana countered with a cough, looking around.

An uncomfortable silence fell. Renya suddenly felt lightheaded.

“She was right behind me,” Zevran murmured, wiping his face and streaking the dust down it. He turned toward the Warden. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Renya. I should have made sure she was safe…”

“Great…” came a muffled voice from the rubble behind them. Everyone turned in time to see a dusty, bloody hand grip the stones at the bottom of the small opening. Nyviel’s face came into view, grey from both fright and crushed granite dust.

“You made the mountain collapse on us!” she fumed, glaring at Morrigan. The witch was staring at the rubble-filled cavern with wide eyes looking almost frightened.

Renya and Alistair were at the opening in an instant, pulling the younger elf to safety. She was badly bruised and had a cut across her forehead that was bleeding profusely, but otherwise was alive and well.

“Thank the creators,” Renya murmured, throwing her arms around Nyviel. She released her and studied her for a moment before nodding and letting go of her shoulders.

“I vote for going back,” she said as Nyviel healed herself.

“What? No!” Oghren yelled. “What happened to this so-called fearless leader of yours who-”

“Are you still drunk?” Zevran cut in, eyebrows raised. “Or do you just have a death wish?”

“How dare you, you pointy-eared-”

“It will not do for us to fight,” Leliana said. She glanced at Morrigan, who was still staring at Nyviel, now looking almost guilty. Morrigan roused herself with a shrug.

“I did not think dwarven crafting was so flimsy,” Morrigan said, shifting her eyes off the cavern and onto the dwarf in front of her. “It should not have fallen with the spell I used.”

“Now see here-” Oghren cut in.

“We are alive,” Zevran said with a shrug. “And that’s something.” He glanced at Nyviel, who was silently watching the proceedings, looking torn. It was in stark contrast to Renya, whose arms were crossed and who looked solidly decided.

Alistair was glaring at the witch. “It still brought the cavern down.”

“You may not have noticed, but the Warden was slowly being crushed to death by a hex,” Morrigan said testily, her eyes flashing. “Shall I leave her be next time?”

“We all did what we thought was best, and we survived. That is all that matters now,” Leliana said firmly. She was looking at Renya, who was shaking her head and looking back at the collapsed cavern.

Alistair rounded on her. “I can’t believe you’re taking her side!”

“For once the Chantry sister is speaking sense,” Morrigan said with a small smile.

“Why don’t we all just calm down,” Wynne began.

Everyone started arguing at once. Sten watched them, shaking his head. Shale, too, was watching the fight, appearing interested. Renya began to slowly walk back toward the pathway into the collapsed cavern, Nyviel frowning after her in confusion. Renya sighed, peering into the darkened cavern, figuring someone would follow her. They didn’t really need the durgen’len, did they? Not at the cost of one of her friends. She pushed Wynne’s thoughts of “love being selfish” out of her mind.

“Enough!” Nyviel finally yelled, her voice echoing down the stone corridor. Everyone stammered into silence, stunned. “We’re fine. We need the dwarves to stop the Blight, don’t we?”

Renya and Alistair nodded once in unison, Renya looking introspective. She finally sighed.

“Then we keep going,” she said, not looking at anyone.

She strode off with Alistair next to her, aware that the others were following them. With a sigh, she fell back to walk next to Nyviel, who was walking by herself at the back of the procession. Nyviel didn’t look at her, either. Renya walked quietly next to her, breathing more easily as Wynne’s potion continued to relieve her body of the residual pain she was in.

“So.”

Renya glanced over. “So?”

“Yeah.” Nyviel glanced back at Renya. “Thanks for the talk.”

Renya nodded in understanding and they continued on in silence for a while.

“Nyviel?”

“Yes?”

“...ma serannas. Thank you.”

A warm hand was placed on her shoulder, and Nyviel smiled and swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Renya?” Alistair called from the front of the group a few stone corridors later. “You need to come see this.”

Another squeeze of Nyviel’s shouler, and Renya walked back to the front of the group.

“Viran se lan’aan – how did you find this place?” Renya muttered, eyes wide and staring. A huge cavern opened before them, with towering statues and wooden chests. Veins of some blue material flowed through the walls.

“Lyrium,” Oghren said, seeing where Renya was staring.

In the distance, they heard yelling and the clash of metal on metal. With a glance at Alistair, Renya held up her hand and crept forward. Zevran followed her just as silently. Over a small hill in the stone, a troup of dwarves were attacking a dragon. It was smaller than the one at Haven, but still very large.

“Should we help?” Zevran asked.

Renya squinted at the figures desperately fighting. “Are they on our side?”

“Ah, of that I can’t be sure.”

She looked at him seriously. “Maybe if we help them, the answer will be yes.” Turning back to her companions, she waved them over and pointed.

“You four stay here,” Renya said, pointing to Morrigan, Nyviel, Wynne, and Leliana. “Give us cover. We’ll rush in.” She pulled her swords out and, with another grim look passing between them, the rest of the party charged forward.

Once the Warden’s party arrived, the dragon went down easily. One of the dwarves faced Alistair curiously.

“A Grey Warden?” he said, eyeing Alistair’s armor. “You are quite welcome here, ser. I am Captain Vabec of the House of Berylg.” He indicated the dwarves with him. “It is our turn to patrol the Deep Roads for darkspawn. Seems we ran into a little more than that. I thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome,” Alistair said politely. The dwarf considered him.

“And what are two Grey Wardens and a group of other… people doing this far into the Deep Roads?” he asked. “I doubt you’ve traveled a full day’s walking on the chance of slaying a dragon. There are plenty of those on the surface, I’m told.”

Alistair and Renya shared a look. She gave him a little nod. “We’re down here on Grey Warden business,” he said, trying to sound official. “We’re traveling to a lost thaig. There’s a Blight happening, and our path has led us here.”

Vabec’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “You’re actually looking for the archdemon?”

“N-no. No. Nothing quite like that,” Alistair said, looking at Renya for help.

“Please, Ser Vabec,” Wynne said from the back, surprising them all. “We have been traveling a long way, and the road has been difficult. Could you tell us of a fairly safe place to stay?” She was leaning on her staff a little more heavily than usual.

“My apologies, mage, but there’s no such place here,” Vabec said with a shrug.

“Perhaps the dwarf knows of a place that is defensible?” Sten offered.

“Why don’t you camp with us for the night?” Vabec said now. “We would benefit greatly from the company of the Grey Wardens. And you will not be able to rest as well once you go deeper into the roads. We’re on our way back to Orzammar; the next group won’t be down this way for a few days, and there are none further in than us, save for the Legion. You’ll be on your own.”

“We appreciate your offer,” Renya said quickly. “And accept.”

***

It was an odd evening. It was very dark in the deep caves to begin with, and the room glowed a gentle blue from the lyrium in the stones. Renya never realized how much she took the night sky for granted, and sat staring up at the stalctites growing down from the ceiling with a combination of interest and sadness. Leliana sat next to her.

“It is so interesting, isn’t it, how the stone grows from itself?” she asked, following Renya’s gaze. “It is like the mountain is alive.”

“It is alive. Only you topsiders seem to think the earth is dead,” Oghren said, polishing his great axe. His silver armor shone in the firelight.

“I like that thought,” Leliana replied. “That the earth itself is alive.” She leaned against Renya and looped their arms together.

“The Dalish do not see vhen’alas – sorry, our earth – as some dead thing to cultivate, either,” Renya said conversationally to Oghren.

“Right,” Oghren replied, scratching his head. “That reminds me: I thought I heard something about Dalish frolicking once.”

Renya sighed as Leliana chuckled.

“Yes,” Renya said evenly. “But we cannot do that kind of… _frolicking_ … in the forest.”

“Why not?” Oghren said with interest.

“Because,” the elf said with a smile. “The trees would get jealous. They are always watching, after all.”

Leliana shook her head. “Now you’re just teasing us.”

“I am serious. There are tales of whole villages being turned into trees and stones because they upset the forest they lived in. Of course, they did a little more than…frolick… but still…”

“What did they do?”

“Broke a limb from a sacred tree to make a bow. Even worse was the elf didn’t ask permission or offer something in return. Then, when the spirits from the forest went to the elven camp to ask for the limb back, the da’felas elf refused to return what wasn’t his. Darkness covered the land, and when the light finally broke through again, the elven camp had been abandoned. But,” Renya said, smiling as she saw Leliana, Nyviel, Zevran, and Alistair listening with interest. “Where the elves had stood grew tall, bent trees. It is said if you stare at the bark, you can still see the anguished faces of the doomed elves.” She shuddered a little.

“Is that really true?” Alistair said from across the fire. “I… I can’t believe that something like that would actually happen.”

Renya considered him. “Are the stories of Andraste true?”

“Well… I…”

“I believe this story. You believe your stories.”

“Well,” Oghren said, rising. “I’m going to turn in. It’s going to be hard going from now on, and I want one more night of good sleep.” He clomped away.

One by one the companions went to sleep. Renya remained sitting in front of the fire, still staring up at the ceiling of the cavern. Leliana’s head lolled as she started to fall asleep.

“Lelia,” Renya whispered, nudging her. “Go rest.”

“No, I’m awake,” Leliana protested tiredly. Renya squeezed her hand.

“No, you are not. Go to sleep.”

“No.” Leliana rested her head on Renya’s shoulder. The elf shook her head warmly before standing up. Leliana sighed in protest.

“Come,” Renya said, reaching out for Leliana’s hand. The bard took it and pulled herself to her feet. “I will be right there. I am going to walk around the camp one more time.”

Leliana arched an eyebrow at her, then nodded resignedly. “Alright. But don’t keep me waiting.”

With a furtive glance around her, Renya leaned in and kissed Leliana quickly. “I wouldn’t dare, ma vhenan.”

After Leliana had crawled into her bedroll, Renya silently made her way around the camp. Off by herself, on the very edge of the light cast by the fire, sat Nyviel, staring off into the darkness, alone.

Renya sat down next to her. The sat quietly side by side for a long time.

“You’re not afraid of anything, are you?” Nyviel finally asked glumly.

“I hate spiders.”

The younger elf looked at her incredulously. “But they’re everywhere! And the ones we fight… they’re huge.”

“Ugh. I know. Do not remind me.” Renya rubbed her arms, looking disgusted.

“But… you fight them anyway. What are you really afraid of?”

“That is a big question, lethallan,” Renya said thoughtfully. “I never thought about it until I left my clan with Duncan. Losing the people I care about. Being alone…” she finished quietly. “That has already happened. My best friend, my clan, Merrill… my home.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “I have met wonderful people… I do not want to lose anything else,” she said awkwardly, remembering how willing she was to walk away from the Deep Roads in order to protect her friends. No, how willing she was to _break a promise_ for the sake of her friends – break what was maybe one of the most important promises she had ever made. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that: disappointed, yes, but what was more important? Her clan here, or the fate of the world – a clan of a different sort?

“You’re not alone, Renya,” Nyviel said, putting her hand on the other elf’s shoulder. “You’re doing so much good here. And… I know you’re Dalish and you probably feel more of an outsider than any of us ever have, but… you belong here. With us. We’re with you. You’re not alone, no matter what it feels like.”

Renya looked over at her with a small smile. Nyviel blinked.

“I always had nightmares of the Tower collapsing, but… that wasn’t really what I was afraid of. I see that now.” She nudged Renya’s arm. “I guess we both feel more out of place than we admit.”

“Maybe,” the elf said, not looking at her again. “Although it’s nice to hear some reassurance every once in a while.” Renya shrugged. “After all, the Grey Warden leader can’t exactly go around saying, ‘Do you think I am doing a good job?’ or ‘I am feeling out of place. Help me feel better.’ The darkspawn would all laugh at me.”

Nyviel laughed. “It’s nice to know you’re a real person, though. Sometimes I think we all get lost in what the world thinks we are. Like legends.”

“And people need to remember legends. It is good for them,” Renya said with a shrug. “But right now I am just an elf. An elf who hates spiders. And, I have recently decided, also does not like spending my time underneath solid rock.” She glanced up at the ceiling of the cave. “I miss the stars.”

“Me, too.”

Renya reached into her side-pouch and pulled out the necklace she had purchased in Orzammar. “Here, Nyviel. I want you to have this.”

“Thank you,” Nyviel said, taking it gently and looking at the woven metal. “What is it?”

“That is the symbol of Mythal, the Protector and All-Mother. She leads all the other gods alongside her husband Elgar’nan,” Renya said as she gazed at the necklace in the other elf’s hand. “She is the goddess of motherhood and justice, and is loving and protective. She is very important to the Dalish.”

“I’ve heard you pray to her,” Nyviel said simply. “You ask her to protect you.”

Renya nodded. She pointed to the necklace again. “The Dalish craft these. Usually they are passed from mother to daughter, but my mother died soon after I was born. I do not know what happened to hers.”

“But I’m not Dalish,” Nyviel said sadly, starting to hand the necklace back.

“You are not?”

“I want to be, but…”

Renya closed Nyviel’s hand around the pendant. “You are always able to return to the People. You will always be welcome.” She patted Nyviel’s shoulder before standing up and walking back to the campfire. Yes, Nyviel could return to the Dalish, but… Renya’s heart felt heavy knowing that was not a path open to her anymore. It had been symbolic, in a way, giving the pendant to her when she, herself, did not have one. With a sigh, she pulled her roll over closer to where Leliana was sleeping and lay down, staring up toward the ceiling thoughtfully.

Nyviel stared down at her hand, closed around the symbol of Mythal. Smiling, she quickly fastened the necklace around her neck and tucked the chain under her robes, suddenly feeling better than she had in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a busy chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us and access extra video-game related thoughts [here](https://www.patreon.com/AmbiGamingCorner) if you're really feeling generous!


	99. Clarity

Renya woke with a yell a few nights later. Leliana startled and sat up next to her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. The Warden was sitting hunched over, panting and staring at the ground with wide eyes. Leliana put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “What is it, my love?”

“A nightmare. Just… just a nightmare. It happens to Grey Wardens,” she said breathlessly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Renya continued to stare, unseeing, at the rocks at her feet. What could she say? In her dream, there was darkness, so much darkness. In it, a dragon roared. Although she couldn’t see it, Renya knew it was hunting her. She tried to run, but found herself paralyzed like when she had been in the desire demon’s thrall. Briefly, she wished Alistair was with her, before she was consumed into the nothingness. That was when she had woken up.

“No,” she said aloud.

“Is the Warden ill?” Morrigan, too, had been awoken by the yell and had come over to investigate. She knelt next to her and studied her critically. Green eyes met gold for the briefest moment before Renya looked away. There was something in Morrigan’s eyes that, for the first time, made her uneasy. She pushed it from her mind. Leliana noticed the look and took her hand firmly.

“Nightmares again?” Alistair asked from his bedroll on the other side of the fire. “Me, too.” He shuddered. “We were surrounded by darkspawn, and…ugh,” he finished with a sigh.

Renya frowned slightly. The two of them usually had the same nightmares. “Right,” she said with as much conviction as she could muster. “Terrible.”

“Are you alright, Renya?” Wynne said, walking over. The top of her staff was lit, making all of them squint.

“Here, let’s get you some water.” Nyviel began rooting through their supplies.

“Creators, can’t I have a bad dream without all of Thedas worrying over me?” Renya said grumpily.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve woken up screaming, Renya,” Wynne said gently.

Renya sighed. It was true. The nightmares were getting worse. If Alistair was going through the same thing, he hadn’t mentioned it.

“It’s because we’re in the Deep Roads,” the other Warden said now. “More darkspawn are around. It’s affecting the taint in us.”

“Wonderful. I’m fine!” Renya snapped when Nyviel came over with a waterskin and a cup. “Can we all go back to sleep now?”

“Perhaps you should talk about these dreams, Warden,” Morrigan offered, her eyes oddly bright.

The Warden took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm herself. She was tired – more tired than she had felt in recent memory – and embarrassed, and in no mood for more fussing. Leliana’s fingers squeezed hers a little.

“No. I am fine. Darkspawn, like he said,” Renya said with an off-handed shrug. “Nothing to worry about. Goodnight.”

And, not caring how rude it was, she lay back down, turned on her side, and wrapped herself back up in her blanket, pointedly closing her eyes. She listened to the muttering as her friends went back to their own sleeping places.

“They’re getting worse,” Nyviel whispered. “I hear her talking in her sleep sometimes. It’s too bad I don’t speak Dalish…”

“As capable as the Warden is, she is foolish to not speak of these things,” Morrigan said. Renya pictured her fussing over the raven feathers on her shoulder.

“Why are you so interested in her dreams? It’s not like they tell the future.” Nyviel’s voice still held a bite in it when talking to the witch.

“No, they tell more of the present, I think,” Alistair offered quietly. “That’s scary enough.”

“Dreams hold important information. You spend the most time with her,” Morrigan said now, presumably to Leliana. “Perhaps you can get her to see reason?”

Renya felt Leliana place a protective hand on her shoulder. “She is weary. I cannot blame her,” she said. “And I trust she knows what is best for herself,” she added testily, throwing the witch’s words back at her. “If she does not think we need to know the content of her dreams, then…” Renya felt the hand move a little, and wondered if Leliana had just shrugged. She stifled a grin; Leliana most definitely wanted to know of what Renya had dreamed. But the elf noted that she was instead defending her desire for privacy.

“Either way, she does not want us here now,” Wynne said with a sigh. “I think we should rest. We have a long walk ahead of us.”

Renya listened to footsteps fading and material rustling as her companions nestled back into their bedrolls. Something heavy leaned on top of her arm, and fingers gently brushed against her cheek. She felt lips kiss her temple.

“Do not leave me,” she murmured. “Please.”

She felt Leliana press herself into her back, putting her hand on Renya’s waist. Renya grabbed her hand and drew it across herself. Lips brushed against the back of her ear, making it twitch and shooting a pleasant jolt down into Renya’s stomach.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my love.”

***

Renya woke up a few hours later, pressed against Leliana. The bard was holding her tightly and looked down when she felt Renya begin to stir.

“What time is it?” Renya asked, bleary-eyed. She saw Sten standing guard and sprung to a sitting position. “I missed my watch! Why didn’t you wake me? I-”

But Leliana held up her hand to silence her. “We wanted you to rest,” she said soothingly. “Morrigan and Zevran covered your watch for you…”

Renya pulled away. “No no no!” she exclaimed, reaching around for her swords. “I am fine! I told you I am fine!” She blinked and shook her head. The singing was back, louder now than before she had fallen asleep. Morrigan, hearing the commotion, came over to investigate.

“Warden?”

The elf groaned.

“’Tis odd you are as affected as you are when Alistair sleeps so soundly.”

Renya glared at her. “Yes. Odd,” she agreed testily. Alistair was in his bedroll, snoring peacefully.

“Is this usual for one Grey Warden to experience these nightmares differently than another?” Morrigan asked, her gold eyes bright in the firelight.

“I do not know.”

“I would think not,” the witch continued. “You must not ignore these dreams, Warden. Dreams hold a great deal of information.”

“I am sure, Morrigan.”

“At any rate,” Leliana cut in now, gently tugging on Renya’s hand. “You are to rest. It is nearly time for us to be traveling again, anyway.”

Renya tried to stand up but found herself held down by both Leliana and Morrigan.

“Drink this.” Morrigan offered her something purple and bubbling.

“What is it?” Leliana asked as the elf took the vial unquestioningly.

“It will help with clarity,” Morrigan said vaguely. She watched Renya intently as the elf brought the glass to her lips.

“I don’t like this,” Leliana said with a frown, putting her hand on Renya’s arm to stop her. Nyviel walked by, yawning and rubbing her eyes. The bard called her over.

The elf mage stopped mid-yawn and walked over. She looked like she hadn’t slept well, either. Leliana pointed at the purple liquid. Nyviel glanced at it and shrugged.

“What is it?”

“’Tis a potion for mental clarity, nothing more,” Morrigan said with a huff. “I do not see why you do not trust me.”

Nyviel glared at the witch, for the first time seeing how young she was. She had always thought Morrigan was much older, but in truth she was probably a few years younger than Renya.

“Besides almost bringing the cavern down on our heads in your rashness?”

“How dare you-!”

“Besides your lack of loyalty to anyone in this group?”

“I have been loyal to the Warden in all things!” Morrigan countered hotly.

“And yet you have not once called her by name,” Nyviel said with the hint of a snarl.

Morrigan looked uncomfortable, color rising in her neck. “I have never quailed in my loyalty! I have never asked anything in return!”

“Yet,” Nyviel spat.

“Flemeth?” Leliana offered quietly. “Or are we not speaking of that?”

“Do not talk to me of secrets, bard!”

“You never told us the reason Flemeth sent you with her,” the redhead countered. Morrigan’s eyes widened.

“I joined the Warden long before you did. What of you? Why did you insist on following? Ah, was it to serve your Maker, or solve the problem of your past? Perhaps this love you profess is merely a side effect of a different aim?”

Leliana didn’t take the bait. “That isn’t an answer,” she said in a low voice.

“What does the Warden say about all this?” Morrigan asked with forced calm. “If she asks me to leave, I shall.”

Renya shook her head, trying not to focus on the awful music demanding her attention. Somewhere in her brain, she registered that Morrigan hadn’t answered the question, but why not? She had told Renya, hadn’t she?

“No one is leaving,” Renya said flatly. She held Morrigan’s gaze and downed the potion in one gulp. It tasted awful, and she made a face as she handed the vial back to the witch. The gold eyes were looking at her with interest, as if waiting.

A searing pain shot through Renya’s head and she winced. Her hand went to her forehead, and for a moment the music was gone. Unfortunately, it was replaced be the throbbing of her pulse.

“Mythal’enaste,” she mumbled, squinting her eyes shut. In an instant, it was over and she lowered her hand, blinking at the three women looking at her. Leliana immediately rounded on Morrigan.

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” Renya said. She looked at Morrigan apprehensively. The witch appeared to, again, be studying her. “I feel fine. If you all had just let me stand watch,” she added angrily. “None of this would have happened.” And she stomped away to wake Alistair.

“I’m glad that is settled,” Morrigan said with a toss of her head.

“And I don’t like that she trusts you out-of-hand,” Nyviel grumbled as the witch walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank the creators Morrigan is around to help out, though, right?
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	100. Heed the Call

Despite the grumblings of her companions, Renya was feeling much better after drinking Morrigan’s mysterious potion.

“As I told your meddlesome friends, it was a tonic for clarity,” the witch said crossly when Renya asked her what was in it.

“I am just trying to thank you,” Renya said, raising her hands. “I feel much better now. The headache is gone and the singing is much quieter.”

“…I am glad to hear it, Warden.” Renya missed the odd look that passed over Morrigan’s face.

By the time the party stopped for a hurried meal of dried meat and something the humans referred to as hard-tack, Renya was quite ready for the journey underground to be over. Rattling caught her attention.

“Oh no,” she muttered, her ears twitching.

“Darkspawn?” Leliana asked, rising and pulling Renya’s bow off her back.

“No… spiders.”

“Where? I don’t see anything.”

“Down the path.” The Warden pointed.

“Oh, goody,” Zevran said with a smile. “They are showing us which way we are to go. How thoughtful of them.”

The hissing and rattling continued as they walked toward the end of the cavern and into the dark passage. Renya drew her blades with a flourish and charged, Alistair at her side, but they both skidded to a halt, the party stumbling to keep from running into them.

At their arrival, the spiders began pulling themselves back up to the ceiling and scurrying up the walls. Renya stood watching them with her jaw set. She glanced at Alistair, who was likewise watching the creatures retreat with a confused and disgusted look on his face.

“Well that was much easier than I had originally imagined.”

“It is a nice change, lethallin.”

He replied with a wavering chuckle. They proceeded through the hallway into another cavern lined with statues. Statues that looked uncannily like…

“Shale?” Renya said. “Are these… more golems?”

“It appears to be correct. Yes,” Shale replied, looking at them with interest. “But they are not able to move without a control rod. I am most grateful for my current situation, now.”

With a screetch, the golems suddenly came to life, their eyes glowing yellow. It gave them a much more sinister look than Shale’s usual white glow.

“Ah, and they’ve awoken,” Shale said happily. “Perhaps we can… Now there is no need for _that_!”

The golems had charged and one had thrown a boulder at the party. They scattered only just in time. Renya sat up, groaning. Alistair pulled her to her feet.

“Forget what I said earlier,” he quipped, drawing his sword and charging at the stone monsters. Elgar growled as he stood next to Renya.

“Elgar,” Renya murmured, drawing her swords. “Ma’ghilan Alistair.”

With a howl, the mabari was off, jumping at the throat of the golem Alistair was attacking.

“It’s resistant to everything!” Nyviel cried with frustration. She shouted something, and stone erupted from the end of her staff and shot toward the walking statue.

“Not everything,” Shale said, running a shoulder into another one of the stone creatures.

Renya found herself next to Zevran, and the two elves twirled around another one of the creatures, slicing at it.

“Do we even know if this is working?” Zevran called. “It is of stone, after all.”

“I don’t know!” Renya replied, dodging a punch of the golem’s stone hand. The creature staggered back with a metallic-sounding grunt, and the elf looked up in time to see it trying to pull an arrow out of its eye. She wheeled around and saw Leliana perched on a pillar, taking aim again.

“The righteous stand before the darkness, and the Maker will guide their hand,” Leliana intoned as she released the arrow and immediately fitted another one, letting it fly and hitting the golem in the other eye. She continued with her fluid movements, fitting arrow after arrow and shooting them at the golems’ few vulnerable areas.

Renya took a moment to be impressed before turning back to the stone monster behind her. She clambered onto its back as it chased after Zevran, and soon brought it down. The two elves turned their attention onto another golem, this one attacking the mages, who seemed to be having more trouble than the warriors.

Leliana hopped off the column gracefully and began firing arrows in rapid succession as she ran toward the golems, still praying. Renya and Zevran, with a glance at each other, charged into the fray.

Soon the golems lay unmoving on the ground.

“By the ancestors,” Oghren said, wiping his forehead. “These things were meant to protect the dwarves, not attack them!”

“This was most unfortunate,” Shale said. “I had hoped to learn more of myself from these creatures, but it seems that they were different than I.” The golem looked at Renya thoughtfully. “It is interesting…”

“What is, Shale?”

“I… think I do not want it to come to harm. How odd.”

Renya blinked up at the golem. “Well, thank you, Shale. I… do not want you to come to harm, either.”

“That is unlikely,” Shale said with a little shoulder movement. “I am made of stone. But…” Glowing eyes looked around at the fallen golems with interest. “I suppose not impossible. Interesting.”

They spread out, searching the room for anything useful. Renya came across a few sheets of paper stuck under a pile of rubble. Gently she pulled them out and looked at the scribbles on them, frowning.

“What have you found, Warden?” Morrigan strode over, ignoring the glares Leliana and Nyviel shot at her.

“I do not know,” Renya said honestly. She handed the papers over to the witch as Leliana walked over.

“Shall I read them to you?” the bard asked, moving as if to take the papers away from Morrigan. Morrigan twitched them out of the shorter woman’s reach. Renya arched a weary eyebrow.

“I am capable of reading, thank you,” Morrigan said stiffly, scanning the pages.

“What is it?” Renya asked, her dread rising along with Morrigan’s eyebrows.

“’Tis… about how to make a golem,” Morrigan said, her eyes flying back and forth across the page. “But… ‘tis a… well…” She shook her head. “Apparently, the golem is made by encasing a dwarf in armor, and then pouring lyrium into its eyes, mouth, and ears.” She wore a disgusted look on her face. “The author of this paper goes into great detail of how painful this is and how the dwarf screams, until at last it is silenced and has become a golem.” She finally handed the papers over to Leliana, who took them and read them for herself.

“That’s…” Renya shook her head and looked at Shale. The golem was standing nearby, listening.

“I was once a dwarf?” Shale asked softly. A defiant head shake seemed to dispel the thought. “But I am much better than a dwarf, now. Less squishy. I am stronger, and… And I… I wonder… if I had a family…”.

“I don’t know,” Renya said with a little shake of her head.

“Foolish, I know,” Shale said now, resuming a familiar arrogant tone. “That was close to five hundred years ago. Any family I had is surely long dead by now.”

“It’s not wrong to want a family, Shale,” Leliana said now, handing the papers back to Renya, who took them and slipped them into her pack.

“Hm,” the golem said, looking thoughtful.

“Renya,” Alistair called. He was standing at the end of a hallway off the cavern they were standing in. Renya jogged over. He pointed to an open book on an altar. She shrugged at him, waiting.

“This is… I think it’s Branka’s journal,” he said as the rest of their companions joined them.

“A journal?” Zevran asked. “How was she able to write with darkspawn and golems about?”

Alistair shrugged. He looked down at open page. “It says that the Anvil is near the Ortan Thaig…” He started to read. “‘We will go south to the Dead Trenches. The Anvil is somewhere beyond there. The soldiers don’t like the idea. They say there are too many darkspawn and that this journey is folly. But we will go, and I leave my journal for any other travelers who come this way. In this way, they may walk past my corpse and find the anvil’…Pleasant,” Alistair commented lightly. He kept reading. “…find the anvil…oh. ‘For if it remains lost, so are we all. If Oghren is alive, tell him… Nevermind,’” Alistair said with interest. “‘What I have to say is for his ears alone. This is my… my farewell.’” He looked over at the dwarf, who was smiling sadly.

“See that? She did care. That crazy woman did care about me.”

“Indeed,” Morrigan said with a little eye-roll. “I can see how you would make a woman swoon…”

“You can, huh? Heh heh.” He looked her up and down.

“Keep your eyes fixed elsewhere, dwarf,” Morrigan commented icily. “I am not interested.”

“They always say that…”

“Because ‘tis true.”

“Come on, I’m not such a bad guy. Right, Warden?”

Renya sighed and rubbed her vallaslin. “Where’s Ortan Thaig?”

“Way the heck through the Deep Roads, past the Dead Trenches,” Oghren said, stroking his moustache.

“Dead Trenches?” Nyviel squeaked at no one in particular.

“It’s not so bad,” Oghren said gruffly, still rubbing his moustache and looking around the cavern, getting his bearings.

“We should make camp,” Alistair commented. “We’ve been walking for miles already.”

Renya’s ears twitched. Something about the archdemon’s song was different, more insistent, or perhaps more irritating. She just wanted to find this anvil and be done with the Deep Roads. They needed to keep going…

“Yes, let us rest,” Zevran agreed, looking at Wynne with some concern. “We have a long way to go, yet, and…”

“We will continue, won’t we?” Morrigan said, glancing at Renya but unable to completely meet her eyes.

The elf didn’t seem to notice. Above the archdemon’s singing was a voice speaking soothingly to her, although she couldn’t understand the words. She gave herself a little shake.

“Yes, we will make camp closer to this Thaig,” she said heavily.

“What?” Alistair said with a frown. “Renya…”

“Just a little further. It won’t be far,” the elf replied, adjusting her pack and continuing forward.

Morrigan ignored the glare sent her way by Nyviel, and tried not to look satisfied as she followed Renya deeper into the caverns.

***

Two darkspawn attacks and hours later, the party came across a dwarf sitting hunched over a blazing fire. He startled and jumped to his feet at their approach.

“There is nothing for you here!” he yelled at them, bent over slightly. “It is all mine! I have claimed it!”

Renya offered her empty hands. “Who are you? What are you doing down here?”

“You’ve come to take my claim! You surfacers are all alike: thieving scoundrels! Well,” he said, pointing at them with a shaking hand. “I found it first!” His voice was low and strained.

“Bah!” said Oghren with disgust. “He’a a scavenger, good as sodding gone.”

“Perhaps it would be best to put the poor creature out of his misery?” Zevran suggested.

“Begone, you! You’ll bring the dark ones back, you will! They’ll crunch your bones!”

Oghren shook his head. “Word has it the only way you can survive down here is by eating darkspawn flesh.”

Renya frowned. “Why would they do that?”

The dwarf shrugged. “It brings the taint. Turns their brains to sewage, but it hides them from the darkspawn.”

“Poor creature,” Wynne said from the back of the group. “Such are the lengths to which our survival instinct drives us.”

“It’s mine!” the poor dwarf bellowed, hunching over more, like an animal preparing to attack. “Not yours! Crunch your bones!”

“We are not going to hurt you,” Renya said. But the diseased dwarf wasn’t placated.

“Go away! This is mine! Only I gets to plunder its riches!”

“I… I just want to talk to you.”

“No!” He shook his head violently. “No talking! You leave my territory!”

“I am not here to steal anything,” Renya said softly. “I promise.”

He considered her. “Pretty lady…” he said, his tone changing. “Pretty eyes… pretty hair… smells like the steam of burning water, blue as the deepest rock…”

Renya raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything. The dwarf continued.

“So… pretty lady won’t take anything from Ruck? You won’t take Ruck’s shiny worms and pretty rocks?”

“Shiny worms?” Nyviel muttered with disgust.

“I just want to talk,” Renya repeated. “I will not take anything.”

“Oh,” Ruck said with a small frown. “Ruck not mind that, maybe.”

“So… your name is Ruck?”

“Ruck not pretty name, not pretty like lady. Ruck is small and ugly and twisted,” he said, bowing his head.

“I… I think I have seen your mother,” Renya said tentatively. Ruck’s eyes sprung open and Renya took a little step back when she saw the wild look in them.

“No no no no no! No mother! _No_ mother!” he said, his voice rising and becoming hysterical. “No warm blanket and stew and pillow and soft words! Ruck doesn’t deserve good memories. No-no-no-no- _no_ …”

“Poor dear,” Leliana whispered.

“I think your mother misses you,” Renya said. “I heard her praying for your safe return.”

But Ruck shook his head miserably. “She-she did not know, not what I did. I was very, very, very, very angry, and then someone was dead. They wanted to send Ruck to the mines.” He shook his head again. “If I went to the mines, sh-she would know. Everyone would know. So I came here, instead.”

“Oh, Ruck…”

“Once you eat… once you takes in the darkness…” He sighed. “You not miss the light so much.” Ruck looked up at Renya, his eyes suddenly clear. “You know, do you not? Ruck sees, yes. He sees the darkness inside you.”

Renya’s heart beat a little harder. It was true; while she did not like being underground, she didn’t seem to mind it as much as some of her other companions. And the singing would be so easy to follow down here… She shook her head to clear it.

“I am a Grey Warden,” she said stoutly. “It is not the same.” It sounded like she was trying to convince herself, too. But Ruck smiled.

“Grey like the stone. Guardian against the darkness,” he said with a little nod. “Beautiful like waterfalls under the lichen.”

“Charming,” Zevran murmured.

“How have you survived here with all the darkspawn?” Renya asked. Ruck gave a little laugh.

“I keeps to the shadows,” he said with a shrug. “The dark ones don’t look in the shadows, not if you’re quiet. Not if you… you eats their flesh. Now the dark ones are gone.”

“And where have these dark ones gone?”

Ruck thought hard, rubbing his chin. “I thinks they went south, pretty lady.” He pointed. “Far, far to the south. That is where the dark master calls them with his beautiful voice. So much joy when he awoke!”

Renya and Alistair shared a worried look.

“Hmm…” Oghren rumbled, seeing the look. “He’s talking about the archdemon, huh?”

“After the dark master awoke, he called his children and they all went,” he said. His head gave a little twitch. “I wanted to go, too, and gaze upon his beauty…”

“Where… is this dark master now?” Renya asked quietly. “Do you know?”

“He stopped calling,” Ruck replied sadly. “I wish I could go see him, but Ruck, no, no, Ruck-Ruck is a coward.”

“I wonder how long has he been here?” Leliana asked Nyviel quietly. Ruck heard her and looked at her in confused agitation.

“Who’s this? Who’s this?” he demanded, hopping back from her.

“A friend of mine, Ruck,” Renya said, kneeling down in front of him. “She is a friend.”

“A… a friend of the pretty lady?” He considered Leliana. “Her hair is the color of the dark ones’ eyes…” He gave a little shudder.

Leliana touched her red hair self-consciously. “What? I-”

“She’s a friend,” Renya said firmly. “She’s not going to hurt you, either.”

Ruck continued to stare at Leliana. “How long, the friend of the pretty lady asks? Five… Six years? Too long. I no longer remember the sights and smells of the city.”

“You must tell your mother that you are safe,” Leliana continued, still absentmindedly stroking the bottom of her hair.

“No no no no! No, it is better that she thinks Ruck is dead. Less shameful for her. Ruck does not want to remember her! No, Ruck does not deserve good memories of loving mother!” He looked at Renya forlornly. “Pretty lady is like Mother. Pretty lady cares for Ruck, says kind things to him. Pretty lady has eyes the same color as Mother’s… Ruck cannot return! No no no!”

“Alright, alright,” Renya said quietly, as if talking to a spooked animal. “I will not force you to return.”  
“Tell Mother… Please, pretty lady, promise to tell Mother that Ruck is dead. It is… better for her if she thinks Ruck is dead.” He sighed. “I am as good as dead. I am… worse than dead.”

“You want me to tell your mother you are dead?”

“Yes, yes. Ruck wants pretty lady to do that. Ruck… wants the pretty lady to promise him.” He looked at Renya seriously. “Pretty lady is an elf of the forest. Ruck knows pretty lady will keep her promise.”

Renya felt the eyes of all her companions on her. She glanced around, but no one seemed willing to offer any advice. She sighed. “I promise, Ruck. If I see your mother again.”

“Thank you, pretty lady. Thank you!” He considered her one last time. “Now go! Pretty lady hears the dark master’s call, and she must go to him! Go, go! Ruck will stay here. Ruck will be fine.”

“I…”

But Ruck was already off, digging through his pile of treasures and humming animatedly to himself.

“Let’s go,” Alistair said. “I think I’ve had enough crazy for awhile…”

“Wait!” Ruck said suddenly. “Pretty lady… The crawlers takes the papers and the words. They takes the shinies, and bring them to the nest! The nest they makes for the eggs. They…” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “They put the shinies _inside,_ they do.”

“What does that mean?”

Ruck smiled crookedly. “Go, pretty lady. Go and see the master. But avoid the nest…” And he went back to humming and digging through his belongings.

“Papers and words?” Oghren said as the walked away. “Sounds like someone was taking notes. And did you see all the burn-marks on the floor?” He shook his head. “I think that was Branka’s camp. A lot of people must’ve been there at some point…”

“Are you sure it’s alright for us to leave him there?” Leliana asked, looking over her shoulder toward where Ruck was still digging through the stones.

“I think it would have been kinder to just kill him, instead of leaving him like that,” Zevran commented.

“But he was so kind,” Nyviel said. “You can’t just kill him because he’s…”

“Tainted?” Alistair offered flatly.

“Simple,” Nyviel said, giving Alistair a look. “He’s harmless.”

“And living among the darkspawn in a rather… unfortunate state,” Zevran pressed.

“He wants to stay, and has lived here for years,” Renya answered. “And I am not killing another innocent person.” She glared at Zevran, the singing and her headache coming back. “If you want to murder him in cold blood and convince yourself that it is a mercy, go ahead.”

Zevran looked taken aback. “I… perhaps you are right,” he said politely, seeing her expression.

Renya turned to Oghren. “Ortan Thaig is south, then?”

“Yup,” he said. He pointed. “That way. Let’s go.”

***

They made camp in a little cave carved out from the stone. Renya took first watch, and then chose to let Nyviel sleep and take second watch as well, having decided she did not want to tempt any more nightmares. Ruck’s voice echoed in her memory.

_“Pretty lady hears the dark master’s call, and she must go to him!”_

Why was she more affected than Alistair? Was it because she had been tainted before becoming a Grey Warden? She was starting on the third watch when footsteps came up behind her.

“And you are still here,” Morrigan said, sitting down next to the elf. Renya looked at her.

“Where would I go?”

“To sleep, of course. I expect you would want to spend the night in your Leliana’s arms.” The witch was staring straight out into the darkness.

“Are you making fun of me?” Renya said tiredly. “I am not really in the mood.”

“I am not making fun of you,” Morrigan said with a shrug. “I am merely curious as to how you are faring with her.”

“How I am faring with her?”

“Yes,” Morrigan said, finally looking at Renya. “You cannot deny this journey you have been on has been tumultuous. With her lies and deceit, the ways she has played with you…”

Renya sighed. “What would you like me to say, lethallan?”

“I would like you to say why you are now preferring to stay awake all night over sleeping peacefully with the Chantry girl, when she says she loves you.” She fixed her gold eyes on Renya seriously. “Has she displeased you in some way?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.”

“Or perhaps her… performance is not as good as you expected? I assume elves have very high standards…”

Renya smiled at that. “Her performance is just fine, thank you,” she said with a little humor, meeting the gold eyes. “Very interested, are you?”

“We are friends, correct? Friends talk about these things.” She looked back out into the darkness and sat quietly for a moment, thinking. “Do you… love her?”

The elf didn’t respond right away, considering this. She thought of her hesitation back in Tapster’s Tavern. It had only been one selfish act, nothing more… hadn’t it? Her mind drifted back to the Sabrae, and to the life she left behind. What if she could go back? After all, she could go to the Free Marches after the Blight. Things could go back to how they were. Marathari and Ashalle were still there, Merrill was still there, but… Renya swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Yes, Morrigan,” she said quietly. “I love her.”

“And what if she does not feel the same, hm? What if, once the thrill has passed, she leaves you?” Morrigan shook her head. “The stories I have heard of elves and humans loving each other have never ended well, Warden.”

The elf sighed. “Then so be it,” she said softly.

“Warden?”

“Then so be it,” Renya said, a little louder. “I just…” _Want her to be happy,_ she finished in her mind. Morrigan was staring at her with a strange look on her face. “I love her. She says she loves me. If she wants to leave me, I… I will let her.”

“Indeed. So you will use this relationship to your advantage?”

“What? No, Morrigan. That is not what I said,” Renya replied. “You do not use the people you love.” She considered. “It… it is like friendship. I have not used you, and you have not used me. We are just… friends.”

Morrigan looked uncomfortable for a moment. “…Indeed.” She shook her head. “So you sit out here,” she continued, changing the subject and trying to regain her usual tone. “Away from the woman you say you love, for what purpose, exactly?”

“So we have made it back here, have we?” Renya asked with a smile. It faded quickly. “The nightmares are worse down here, Morrigan. And, after what Ruck said about the ‘dark master,’ I am hesitant to allow myself to dream again.”

“I see,” Morrigan said. She considered Renya. The elf had barely slept for the past three days and Morrigan had watched her become weakened and more bothered by headaches and the singing about which she complained.

It was an unexpected opportunity.

“I can take my watch now, Warden, if you would like. And… and I can offer you sleep, although ‘tis not magic I can perform every night. Tomorrow you will have to find a different source of comfort.”

“No, I am not sure I like that idea, M-”

The witch waved her fingers and Renya’s head slumped forward. The elf began to collapse onto the floor and, with a heave, Morrigan pulled her up by her armpits and dragged her over to where Leliana was sleeping. She arranged the elf to what looked like a comfortable position, nodded, and resumed her watch. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Leliana open her eyes, pleased when she saw Renya next to her, and rest her head on the elf’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Warden,” Morrigan whispered into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra-long bit of story for your guys, since it's our 100th chapter!!! YAY!
> 
> Otherwise... yikes.
> 
>  
> 
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	101. Fault

_Renya was walking alone through the Brecilian forest. She thought she heard someone crying, and hurried toward the sound. Kneeling on the forest floor was Merrill. Renya jogged over._

_“Merrill?” she asked, kneeling next to her. “What’s wrong?”_

_“You are gone,” Merrill said, tears in her eyes. “You are gone and will not come back.”_

_“I’m sorry, Merrill. Where are you?” Renya blinked, wondering why she had asked. Obviously Merrill was right next to her._

_“I am still here. I was left behind. You are the one who is gone. The one… taken forever.”_

_“We will see each other again, Merrill. I promised you.”_

_“You go to fight the Blight, Renya. There is no happily ever after.”_

_Renya shook her head. She reached out to put her arm around Merrill’s shoulders, but her arm passed right through her. The Warden stared at her in shock. Merrill shook her head knowingly._

_“See? You are already gone. A ghost. Nothing but a memory.” She started to fade into the darkness around them. “A dream… A wonderful dream, but I have to wake up…”_

_“Wait, no. Merrill, please, don’t leave me!”_

_“Renya?… Renya!...”_

_And she was gone. Renya was left kneeling on the forest floor, staring at the now-empty place where Merrill had knelt. She sat quietly for a long time, until singing caught her attention. She rose with a frown and followed the sound deeper into the forest. Eventually she came to a clearing, dominated by a statue of a griffin. Leliana was standing in front of it, singing._

_“Heruamin lotirien alai uethri maeria… I feel the sun through the ashes in the sky…”_

_Renya listened, confused. Leliana was singing in Dalish, but the song was not one Renya had ever heard before. Leliana continued, unaware of Renya walking up to her._

_“Halurocon yalei nam bahna dolin nereba maome? Halai lothi amin aloamin heruamin. Heruamin oh lonai imwe naine beriole… Where is the one who will guide us into the night? What has begun is the war that will force this divide. What is to come is fire and the end of time…”_

_The bard’s voice caught, tears in her eyes, but she continued. Her voice was surprisingly steady._

_“Ame amin halai lothi amin aloamin heruamin. Ame amin noamin… I am the one who can recount what we have lost. I am the one who will live on…”_

_Leliana finished singing, and the crowd around her – who Renya had only just noticed – clapped, some of them wiping tears from their eyes. With a frown, Renya noticed that they were standing in Redcliffe._

_Leliana nodded, a wavering smile on her face as the crowd applauded. A man came up to her and offered her a few gold sovereigns, but she shook her head._

_“Thank you, but I will accept no… no coin for this performance,” she said softly. “The… the Grey Wardens need your support more than I.” She nodded to a man in blue Grey Warden armor who had been watching her perform. Renya stiffened. She didn’t know this man, and didn’t like how he smiled at Leliana._

_“You have a wonderful voice,” he said, coming up to her after accepting the other man’s donation with a word of thanks. “Were all those things you said true?”_

_“Yes. Very,” Leliana said, wiping a tear from her eye._

_“Perhaps you can tell me more about this at the tavern?” He placed a hand on her shoulder and brushed a stray piece of hair from Leliana’s face. Renya’s blood boiled as Leliana gently pulled away from him. The elf grabbed for her knife, but it was gone. She was standing in her Grey Warden uniform, but must have left her belt and her hunting knife at the camp. Odd…_

_“No, thank you. I must… I must go.” Leliana walked away and passed Renya without looking at her._

_“Lelia?…Lelia!”_

_But the bard continued on as if she hadn’t heard. Elgar bounded up to Leliana, yipping at her excitedly. Renya relaxed, finally realizing she was dreaming. Soon her dream-self would come over, and hopefully punch the other Grey Warden who dared to put his hands on Leliana._

_Any minute now._

_“Come, Elgar,” Leliana said softly. “Let’s find you something to eat.”_

_Elgar barked enthusiastically. Leliana walked away, the mabari trotting next to her._

_“Come on…” Renya heard herself murmur as she watched the two leave the center of the village._

_The scene faded around her and she was standing in a pit, surrounded by darkspawn. Her swords were out and she was fighting for her life. Singing was filling her ears, calling to her, inviting her to join them and be at peace. She screamed, swinging her sword as she was attacked on all sides. For some reason, none of her companions were with her. A roar rattled her to her bones, and an enormous dragon leaped up from the darkness. It opened its mouth wide as it swooped at her. Renya barely had time to cry out before it swallowed her whole._

***

Leliana woke and stretched, smiling when she saw Renya sleeping next to her. Usually the elf was awake long before Leliana was, so this was a pleasant change. She leaned over and kissed Renya.

“Good morning, my love,” she murmured. Renya didn’t respond. Leliana smiled. “Oh? Playing games this morning?” She glanced around at the other party members, still sleeping, and kissed Renya again, lingering on her lips. When she leaned back, she noticed that Renya still hadn’t moved, hadn’t returned the kiss, hadn’t given any indication that she had noticed Leliana at all. Leliana frowned a little, sitting up.

“This is not funny anymore,” Leliana said softly, watching Renya breathe slowly and deeply. “Renya?” She picked up the elf’s hand and slapped it a little. No response. “ _Renya?_ ” Elgar sat up next to Renya and whined.

Leliana turned to Nyviel, who was sleeping soundly next to her with her mouth open. “Nyviel,” she hissed. Nyviel startled awake with a little splutter.

“Huh?”

“Something is wrong. Renya won’t wake up.”

Nyviel blinked and sat up. “What? Why not?”

Leliana sighed. “I don’t know. Look.” She tapped Renya’s cheek with her hand. “Renya? Wake up. It’s time to go.” She tapped a little harder; Renya’s head lolled to the side. Still the Warden slept. Nyviel frowned, kneeling over the other elf. By this point, Alistair was awake and walking over.

“Is everything alright?”

“No,” Nyviel said, holding her hand over Renya with her eyes closed. “This is not normal. Her sleep has been enchanted.”

“Can the… the singing she talks about do that?” Leliana asked the other Warden. Alistair shook his head.

“Not that I’m aware of. But she’s been more affected than I would have expected, so…” He sighed, wishing Duncan was still alive. “I really have no idea. It’s possible, I suppose. She… she was tainted before becoming a Warden. Who knows what that’s done to her. You know what I mean,” he added hastily as Leliana threw him a sharp look.

“I saw it talking to the swamp witch last night,” Shale offered from where she was standing. She clomped over. “Perhaps the swamp witch gave it another potion?”

“No, there are no strange substances in her body,” Nyviel commented. “This is… She’s been enchanted, somehow. I’ve never come across this before.” She shrugged. “I guess it could be the darkspawn.”

Renya stirred. “Morrigan…” she murmured as she woke up. She opened her eyes and looked around in confusion at the faces staring down at her. Then she yelped and shot away, staring at her companions with a very bewildered expression as she stood panting by the side of the cave.

“Where am… How did I…?” She looked down and touched her body as if not believing she was real.

“What did the swamp witch do to it?” Shale asked now.

“The swamp…? Morrigan? Nothing,” Renya said with a frown. “We were talking, and then I decided to go to bed.” She blinked; for some reason something didn’t seem right about that.

“Then why did you wake up saying her name?” Leliana asked, trying to keep the accusation out of her voice.

“What?” Renya was looking more and more baffled by the moment. “I do not know. I…”

“And why did you sleep in your Dalish armor?” Nyviel added.

“I… I do not know.” Renya blinked a few times, trying to clear her thoughts. “I just remember feeling so tired.” She shook her head. “We are in the Deep Roads. I probably figured it was a good idea to be prepared if we were attacked. Such is how lack of sleep will affect you, I suppose…”

“Good morning, Warden,” Morrigan said, nodding to her as she passed. “How did you pass the night?”

Leliana stood protectively in front of Renya. “Get away from her.”

Morrigan looked at her mildly. “I am inquiring after the Warden. Watch your jealousy, Leliana. You’ll give yourself wrinkles.” Leliana glared at her.

“Enough,” Renya grumbled from behind Leliana. She stepped out from behind the bard and stomped over to where Zevran was preparing the morning meal.

“I don’t know why she trusts you. You… you did that to her, didn’t you?”

“I would not hurt her,” Morrigan said carelessly. “Do not worry yourself so.”

“You whisper in her ear…” Leliana murmured through gritted teeth.

“As do you, I’m sure. Although what I say is bound to have more substance.”

“And you… you…”

Morrigan waved her hand carelessly. “State your concerns, bard, or leave me be. I do not take kindly to those with shadows in their past pretending to be beacons of light shining in the darkness. I have promised to aid the Warden, and that is what I am doing.”

“You forget I have my own pointy ends, Morrigan,” Leliana said softly. “Do not make a promise you do not intend to keep, especially when it comes to Renya.”

“I always keep my promises.”

Leliana narrowed her eyes. “Talk is cheap.”

“And this from a bard?”

“Enough!” Renya’s called from the fire.

“You wild folk are very odd,” Leliana shot at Morrigan. “And very possessive.”

“I?” Morrigan began incredulously.

Renya appeared next to the two women, glaring at both of them.

“Breakfast?” Leliana offered, and stalked off, Nyviel on her heels.

“Warden, I…”

Renya held up her hand and Morrigan stopped talking. “I do not know what you did,” she said quietly once they were alone. “But do not do it again.”

Morrigan looked shocked. “I…”

“Ever.” And she walked away before Morrigan could say anything else. The witch watched her go, a small frown on her face. Of course Renya figured out what happened; she was not dumb. Morrigan sighed. She hoped this would be enough; she wasn’t sure how much more strain the elf could take before she broke. The witch sighed again. Then she would fail. They all would fail. And it would be her fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm...
> 
>  
> 
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	102. Fear for Your Fate

“The swamp witch has much in common with my former master,” Shale commented as they continued along their path. Morrigan sighed.

“The swamp witch? How original.”

“The swamp witch has the same arrogance, the same air of cruelty. I would hate for it to have possession of my control rod… if it still worked, of course.”

“Yes, yes,” Morrigan said with mock enthusiasm. “I could tell you to go jump in a lake, for instance. A very _deep_ one.”

Shale regarded her. “It fools no one. The swamp witch would control everything, if it could. It would have us all dancing on its strings.”

Morrigan tossed her hair from her face. “Oh, you know me too well, golem. Your revealing gaze has laid me bare.”

“I will be watching the swamp witch. It must not be trusted.”

Morrigan sighed. “You sound like Alistair, now.” Her glance fell on Renya, drinking another one of the purple potions she had given her.

“And the sister. And the elf mage. And…”

“Begone, golem. Or I shall turn into a bird.”

Shale laughed. “Birds do not frighten me. It is mistaken.”

“Oh,” Morrigan said sweetly. “I do not wish to frighten. I will merely hover out of reach, hovering…” She fixed her gold stare on the golem. “Waiting…”

“I see,” Shale said. “Perhaps we will not speak of this any longer.”

“Wise choice, indeed.”

Renya grabbed Leliana and steered her away before she could join in the argument. Unfortunately they wound up walking next to Oghren.

“So…” the dwarf said, looking Leliana up and down. His eyes lingered on the high cut in her armor and the bit of leg exposed above her boots. “They tell you what to wear in the Chantry?”

Leliana frowned at the question. “You have robes and such that you must wear, yes.”

“And, uh, so. Robes. What else?”

“Oghren…” Renya said warningly.

“What? I’ve never seen a woman from the Chantry here.”

Leliana shrugged. “Well… sometimes there are vestments and ceremonial garments.”

“Right, right,” Oghren said. “And… and then?”

“Why are you so interested in this? Are you thinking of becoming a brother?”

Oghren huffed. “Oh, sod it. Under the robes: pants? No pants?”

“What?” Leliana glanced at Renya, who was glaring at the dwarf. “What difference does it make?”

“Fine. Alright. Stonewall me.” The dwarf crossed his arms. “I’ll find out one way or another.”

“Uh, right…”

“Good luck with that,” Renya said, annoyed, stepping between them. Leliana leaned over so she was close to Renya’s ear.

“Although, I could be persuaded to go without by the right person…” she murmured. She grinned as Renya’s ears pricked up and the elf looked at her mischievously.

Finally the pathway opened up into a great cavern. Alistair and Renya both looked at each other.

“Darkspawn,” Alistair mumbled. Renya glanced around, but there was no creature in sight.

“Over there.” Renya looked where Alistair was pointing. The ground cut away in a great precipice, and the party slowly made their way over. Tentatively the two Wardens stepped toward the edge. Morrigan and Leliana followed them, leaning over to look. Leliana gasped.

Deep at the bottom of the chasm stood an army of darkspawn: ogres, hurlocks, shrieks… it was terrible, and both Alistair and Renya were blinking furiously as if to clear their minds. Suddenly, and almighty roar split through the screeching of the darkspawn, and a dragon shot out of the pit.

They all dove away from the edge, Renya pressing Leliana behind her as they crouched by a large boulder. Renya watched the dragon, her longsword out. Morrigan stooped near them with her hand up. A bubble shimmered around the three of them. Alistair had likewise pushed Nyviel away from the edge and was standing in front of her with his shield raised. Wynne, Sten, and Zevran had all ducked behind a nearby boulder, Sten having grabbed Elgar again. Shale stood like a statue, tracing the dragon’s movements with her eyes.

The dragon perched on a bridge, facing away from them, and roared, spitting fire and acid from its mouth. A cry went up from the chasm, and Renya scooted as close as she dared to peek over the precipice. The darkspawn army began to march, encouraged by the archdemon’s roars. Soon, the archdemon took flight again, swooping past the Wardens’ party and following the army as it marched through the road carved deep in the mountain. Slowly Renya rose and Alistair lowered his shield. They shared a solemn look. Renya turned and helped Leliana to her feet.

“Are you alright?”

“I… yes. I’m fine. That was… that was the archdemon!”

“Yes,” Renya said, nodding curtly. She turned to Morrigan. “Thank you.” She stifled a groan and pressed a hand to her forehead before taking another one of Morrigan’s potions out of her pack and drinking it. Morrigan took the empty vial back without saying anything.

Alistair was watching the never-ending darkspawn army march away. “Let’s keep going. We have a long way to go.”

***

“Dwarf, stop tripping me,” Sten grumbled some time later.

“Stop tripping yourself.”

“If you were significant enough to notice, I would not step on you.”

Oghren glared back at the qunari. “Oh yeah? Well… er…your mother.”

“That was disappointing,” Sten said conversationally. “I would have expected better from you.”

“Yeah, well…Sorry. I was in a rush.”

“Are we there yet?” Renya asked Alistair. Alistair nodded.

“I hope so. I’m done with the neverending darkspawn, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And I’m ready to see the sun again,” Nyviel commented.

“Me, too.” Leliana sighed. “I miss feeling its warmth.”

“What are you on about?” Oghren said. “It’s warm down here. I’m sweating my ass off.”

“It’s… it’s different than feeling the warm sun on your face. It’s… I cannot describe it.”

Soon, shouts grabbed their attention, and the two Wardens walked forward to investigate. A small group of heavily-armored dwarves were fighting an onslaught of darkspawn.

“Legionnaires!” one dwarf yelled. “To battle!”

With a look between them, Renya and Alistair charged. Renya was aware of the spells flying past her at the darkspawn, and Leliana’s arrows whistling past.

“Sten!” Renya cried as she was charged by a group of monsters.

Sten looked over and ran to her aid. Crossing his blade in front of his chest, he created a barrier with his body and muscled them backwards until they fell screaming into the lava pit behind them. Between the Wardens’ party and the dwarves, the darkspawn soon lay dead.

“Adrast valaa, Warden,” one of the dwarves said to Renya. “I’ve never seen one of your kind in the Deep Roads.”

“Yes, well…” Renya said, taking a deep breath. “We are in the midst of a Blight, and in order to secure an army for the cause we have been sent on an errand to…”

But the dwarf cut her off with a humorless laugh. “I care not for your Blight. We are always fighting darkspawn here. This is where they pitch their tents between Blights, down in these tunnels.”

“You… you do a good job keeping them from breaking through to the surface,” Renya said politely. Oghren groaned. The Legionnaire looked annoyed

“That’s all you surface-dwellers care about, isn’t it? Whether darkspawn will make off with your cattle.”

“And destroy the world, but yes,” Renya said flatly. “We’re here to find Branka. Do you know anything about-?”

She was interrupted again. “Branka? You’re a fool,” the dwarf spat. “She’s dead and everyone knows it. Everyone with sense anyway.” He sighed. “You have your work cut out for you. Beyond us there is nothing but darkspawn.”

“Will you-?”

“The Legion of the Dead is not coming with you,” the dwarf said flatly. Renya clenched her jaw, tired of being cut off. “We will stay here to guard the line.”

“Why haven’t you charged forward?”

“Are you kidding me?” the captain said with disdain. “Without an ass on the throne, I won’t get paid. I’m not risking more than I already have. I’ll never see my family again. I need to at least know they’ll be taken care of. Now get out of here and keep searching for your dead paragon.”

“Well that went well,” Zevran commented once they had crossed a great stone bridge. They came to a large, locked stone door.

“Great,” Renya said after she, Zevran, and Leliana had all tried and failed to pick the lock. “Now what?”

“Warden?” Sten was standing apart from them, gazing into the darkness. Renya walked over, taking out another purple potion, downing it, and grimacing for a moment before her headache receded.

“Yes, Sten?”

“Perhaps this way?” He pointed down a long, mostly-unlit corridor.

“We’ve been going for close to nine hours,” Oghren offered. “Maybe we should go that way.” He pointed in a different direction. “It looks like there is a nice, safe cavern to bed down in for a few hours.”

“I am in favor of that idea,” Leliana said.

“I think we should keep going, Warden,” Morrigan offered innocently, once more not meeting Renya’s eyes. “’Tis unlikely the caverns the dwarf mentions are not full of darkspawn, and that route will take us off our trail.”

“I don’t like it here, either,” Alistair said. “But we need to rest. Not everyone has Warden stamina.”

Renya blinked hard, as if clearing her head. The archdemon’s singing and the pleasant voice were battling for supremacy. “We keep going. Just a little further.”

“May I ask why?” Zevran piped up from next to Nyviel. “I for one am quite weary.”

“We keep going,” Renya said coldly, her tone surprising even herself. No one noticed Morrigan mouthing the words with her.

“Renya, listen to yourself,” Alistair commented. Renya gave her head a little experimental shake.

“Just a little further, lethallin. It will be fine.”

And so they continued walking in the direction Sten had pointed. Unless Renya was mistaken, decaying corpses were strewn about on the ground ahead of them.

“Of course it would be covered in dead bodies,” she mumbled as they made their way through the hallway.

“Let’s just keep moving,” Wynne said. “I am eager to be anywhere else except this hallway.” She stepped carefully over another body.

_“First day they come and take everyone.”_

The whole party froze.

_“Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.”_

“Creators,” Nyviel murmured.

“I think I am going to be sick,” Zevran said, arching his eyebrow.

Renya glanced at Alistair. “Let’s keep going,” she whispered. As they progressed down the hallway, the voice became louder and louder.

_“Third day, the men are all gnawed on again. Fourth day we wait, and fear for our fate.”_

“Is it too late to turn back?” Nyviel asked. Leliana put her hand on the elf’s shoulder.

“It will be fine,” she said, not sounding like she believed it.

“Fifth day they return, and it’s another girl’s turn…”

“It will be fine,” Leliana intoned to herself. She noticed Renya’s walk become slower until she was directly in the front of the bard, blades out and ears pricked up, alert and on guard.

_“Sixth day her screams, we hear in our dreams…”_

“Is this an enchantment of some kind?” Sten asked roughly, looking around with his sword drawn.

“I do not like this wandering, wondering what is coming next,” Shale said. “I much prefer having something to squish.”

“Seventh day she grew as in her mouth they spew…”

“Maker protect us,” Alistiar said softly, putting his hand over his heart.

“I am really going to be sick, now,” Zevran commented.

_“Eighth day we hated, as she is violated…”_

“What madness is this?” Morrigan muttered.

_“Ninth day she grins, and devours her kin. Now she does feast, as she’s become the beast.”_

Silence fell. No one dared to breathe.

“Is it over?” Renya ventured softly a few moments later. “Thank-”

 _“First day they come and take everyone.”_ The voice was loud now, as if speaking right in their ears.

“No, not again,” Nyviel murmured.

“What is all this?” Morrigan asked in disgust as the corridor opened up to reveal big, pink, fleshy sacks attached to the walls and ceilings. They seemed to be wiggling a little.

“Maker…” Leliana’s voice sounded choked. Elgar whimpered and knocked against her leg with concern.

“I suppose it really is too late to turn back?” Wynne offered, taking a hurried step to the side to avoid brushing against one of the sacks.

_“Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.”_

Renya gasped and grabbed Alistair’s arm. He followed her gaze and covered his mouth with the back of his hand. A half-eaten corpse was lying on the ground in front of them, its face frozen in a final scream. And next to it lay another body, which looked as if its flesh had been ripped off its face, chest, and arms.

“As if the Grey Warden nightmares weren’t bad enough,” she said, swallowing.

_“Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.”_

“Let’s just… let’s just go,” Alistair replied, stepping over the bodies and trying not to look at them. They came to a heavy wooden door.

_“Fourth day we wait, and fear for our fate…”_

“Let us finish this,” Morrigan said, staring at the door with wide eyes. Renya shouldered the door and it swung open. Alistair entered with his shield raised, and Renya followed, her swords out and back stiff. They were in a room covered in piles of flesh, with more sacks hanging from the walls and ceiling.

“Fifth day they return, and it’s another girl’s turn.” A female dwarf was standing among the pile of filth, picking at her arm and chanting. “Sixth day her screams, we hear in our dreams.”

Renya walked up to her tentatively.

“Seventh day,” the dwarf said, looking at her with unseeing eyes. “She grew as in her mouth they spew. Eighth day we hated, as she is violated,” she continued in the same monotonous voice.

“Who are you?” Renya asked warily. The dwarf continued as if she hadn’t heard.

“Ninth day she grins, and devours her kin.” A haunted look passed over the dwarf’s face. “Now she does feast, as she’s become the beast.”

“Are you… Who are you?” Renya asked again. The dwarf blinked at her.

“I am called Hespith. Although I do not know why you ask,” the dwarf said in the same eerily calm voice. “You are a dream of strangers and open doors.” She tilted her head. “I am cruel to myself, to imagine you. You are an elf?” She laughed without humor. “Exotic and unlikely. Feeding time brings only kin and clan.”

“Hespith?” Renya asked. “Do you know who or where Branka is?”

“Do not speak to me of Branka!” Hespith said, suddenly angry. Renya noticed her eyes pointing in opposing directions. “Of what she did! Ancestors preserve us, forgive me.” She sighed. “I was her captain and I didn’t stop her. Her lover, and I could not turn her…”

“Lover?” Oghren grumbled. “Well shit…”

“Forgive her?” Hespith continued. “But no, she cannot be forgiven. Not for what she did. Not for what she has become.” The tormented dwarf sat back down among the piles of flesh.

“What did she do, Hespith?” Renya asked, crouching down next to her and trying not to look disgusted as something squished under her boot. “What did Branka do?”

“I will not speak of her! Of what she did, of what we have become!” Hespith shook her head forcefully. “I will not turn. I will not become what I have seen. Not Laryn, not Branka! I will not speak of it! Not even to my dream creations!”

“What happened? I demand that you tell me,” Renya said, trying to play into Hespith’s delusion.

“Demand?” Hespith laughed again. “Of course, my mind would demand it. And so I will tell myself, again.” She closed her eyes. Renya looked up at Alistair, who shrugged.

“She became obsessed,” Hespith said, her voice quiet now. She opened her eyes. “That is the word, but it is not strong enough. Blessed Stone, there was nothing left in her but the Anvil.”

“Where did she go?”

But Hespith was humming to herself now.

“Hespith, where did she go?” Renya asked again.

“I must remember. I must remember… First day they come, and take everyone…”

“Hespith…”

“Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.”

“How can we find Branka? This is important.”

“Third day, the men are all knawed on again…”

“This is pointless,” Renya grumbled, rising. “Let’s get out of here, quickly.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Alistair said. Without another word, they left Hespith to her chanting and practically ran for the other end of the room. They threw open the door and charged out. The air was still stagnant out here, but it did not smell of blood and flesh and the companions gulped it in thankfully. They had barely recovered when stomping behind them caught their attention.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Alistair said, drawing his sword and shield as two ogres appeared.

The singing was back, louder than ever.

“Of course,” Renya muttered as darkspawn clambered toward them from a shadowy area at the side of the cavern. She noticed a hurlock holding a staff and raising it above his head.

“Take down the emissary,” Renya said to Leliana. The bard nodded and ran off lightly, cutting through the darkspawn easily before swinging Renya’s bow off her back, taking careful aim, and firing three arrows in quick succession at the darkspawn mage. It went down easily.

With a bellow, Renya charged at one of the ogres as Nyviel paralyzed it with a spell. She swung onto its back in time for it to swing to life again, and hacked at it until it collapsed. Luckily it fell into the other ogre, which roared and was knocked off-balance enough for Alistiar to bring it down with a well-aimed stab.

Renya spun and sliced the head off of an advancing darkspawn, noticing Leliana firing arrow after arrow. As the spawn surrounded her, the bard flipped herself over one of the creatures’ backs and began using the bow like a staff, knocking the monsters away from her. Renya’s eyes widened; she had never seen a bow used like that before and, while effective, she wasn’t sure how much abuse her bow could take before it broke.

But Leliana seemed to know what she was doing, and had soon carved out enough of an opening that she was able to begin firing arrows again. She felt something press against her back, and glanced over her shoulder. She caught sight of raven feathers.

“Stay back, fiend!” Morrigan yelled. She grabbed one of the darkspawn by its head, snarling, before pushing it back into the crowd. It exploded moments later, taking a group of its fellows with it. Morrigan laughed. “Indeed,” she said with self-satisfaction.

Renya, meanwhile, was fighting side by side with Alistair, slowly cutting through the horde. Another staff-weilding darkspawn appeared and shot what looked like a bolt of electricity at the group. Nyviel yelled, but too late. It hit Renya and Alistiar and they went down, convulsing. Immediately they were pounced on by a group of darkspawn.

“Renya!” Leliana screamed. Her lip curled into a snarl and she swung the bow onto her back and took out her blades in one smooth movement, beginning to cut a path to get to the fallen elf.

Morrigan, who had looked up at the scream, raised her staff. “Get away from her!” The darkspawn flew away from Renya and Alistair in a white flash of light, and were immediately taken down by Zevran and Sten. Nyviel shoved her way over and stood over the Wardens with Wynne, their staffs raised to create a barrier around them as darkspawn continued to attack. Elgar howled, having seen his master fall, and fell on the creatures with a snarl, ripping them to shreds.

“You will not hurt it,” Shale said conversationally, ripping a darkspawn to pieces. “I will not allow this.”

Soon the darkspawn lay dead and the two Wardens were sitting up panting. Wynne knelt next to them, healing Alistair and letting Nyviel examine Renya. Morrigan crouched down by the Wardens, as well, much to Nyviel and Leliana’s annoyance.

“I’m fine. Just…” Renya reached up and tried to smooth her hair, which was standing on end. Alistair was shaking his head experimentally.

When the two mages were satisfied, they helped the Wardens to their feet and began to check on the other companions. Leliana was glaring at Morrigan.

“I am not that easily won. I still do not trust you,” she said simply.

“You say this as if I care what you think,” Morrigan said airily. Leliana shook her head and turned back to Renya, continuing to fuss over the elf.

“They tried to escape,” echoed a voice in the cavern. All other conversation stopped as the companions looked around warily. “But they found us. Took us all. Turned us.”

“What is this?” Renya asked. Her eyes met Morrigan’s, and the witch shrugged.

“The men, they kill… they are merciful. But the women… they want. They want to touch, to feel, to caress with their cold, cruel fingers…”

Leliana shivered. Renya put her hand on the bard’s shoulder.

“They want to mold, to change you until you are filled with them…”

“Oh, good. Another door,” Zevran called pointedly. “Shall we enter? Yes?”

He was standing in front of a pair of grand doors that were glowing blue.

“I suppose we can’t say ‘no,’ can we?” Alistair said with a little smile.

The doors swung open silently to reveal a large cavern with statues of paragons, stone tables and benches, and, in the center, a large stone altar. Lounging around the room were shadowy dwarves. Renya blinked. They looked like the specters who resided in the Gauntlet.

“How long do you think it’s been since anyone has walked in these halls?” Alistair asked quietly.

“Ages,” Oghren grunted, looking around at the ghosts warily.

They made their way slowly into the room, but the specters paid them no mind. Ahead of them lay an altar with a gold key resting on it. Beyond that was a great door carved into the stone with an ornate handle and keyhole.

“Do we really think they’d just leave this here for us?” Alistair asked once they had reached the altar. They all were staring at the key, each unwilling to pick it up.

“I do not think this key carries a curse,” Morrigan opined, reaching out and holding her hand above the metal for a few seconds before withdrawing it. “The one who takes it should suffer no ill effect.”

“I notice you don’t take it, though,” Alistair shot at her.

“’Tis what you wish of me? I care not.” But the witch still didn’t make a move to remove it.

“Perhaps, if you’ll excuse me,” Zevran interjected. “One of us does not become quite as, shall we say, damaged as others…”

“Is the assassin speaking of me?” Shale asked flatly. “How kind of it to volunteer me.”

“Are we to stand here until the darkspawn have overrun the world?” Sten grumbled.

“No one’s stopping you from taking it, ya great… er… thing.” Oghren shrugged. “By the ancestors, do you want me to grab it? Let’s have it over with.”

Renya, meanwhile, was still staring at the key. She wanted to trust Morrigan, but there was something about this that was too easy.

“Shall we just find a different way?” Leliana suggested, nodding toward the way they had come.

“There is no other way,” Oghren said gruffly. “Didn’t you see the collapse?”

“Well, someone must take this, lest we stand here collecting dust,” Morrigan said with a shrug.

“Excuse me, Renya,” Wynne said gently, staring to push past her. “If no one else will…”

But Nyviel quietly stepped in front of Renya. “Mythal protect me,” she whispered. She reached out and hesitated only a moment before taking the key from the altar. The room went still as the companions held a collective breath.

Nothing happened.

Renya started to laugh loudly, and soon Alistair joined in.

“I do not see what is so humorous,” Morrigan said, arching an eyebrow as the Wardens’ leaned on each other and their laughter filled the hall.

“Nothing. That’s what’s so funny,” Alistair said after he had calmed down.

“Is that so? Your intellect astounds me, Alistair…”

Renya made a sweeping gesture toward the large doors. “You have the key,” she said to Nyviel with a smile and a little bow.

Nyviel grinned and inserted the key into the lock. It made a horrible crunching sound as it turned, but the doors opened smoothly. Nyviel returned the key to the altar – shrugging at Leliana as she did so – and the companions left the room. The great doors swung closed behind them with a boom. They were now standing in a hallway that had at one time undoubtedly been grand, but had fallen into ruin over the ages. More wiggling, fleshy sacs lined the walls and hung from the ceiling.

“Ugh… more of these, then?” Zevran asked with disgust.

“The men, they kill…” Hespith’s voice filled the hallway. “But the women… the women, they want.”

“Perhaps I should go first,” Alistair suggested lightly, stepping in front of the women of the group. He backtracked when he saw Renya, Leliana, Nyviel, Wynne, and Morrigan all wearing matching frowns. “Or… or perhaps not. Perhaps we can all go together?”

“It is good to know that chivalry is not dead, Alistair,” Leliana allowed.

“The women… they want to touch them, to mold… To change until you are filled with them… And then they will take you again, fill you again…”

“Although, I don’t think I’m ever going to sleep again,” Nyviel commented quietly to Wynne.

“It will be alright,” Wynne said comfortingly. “The Wardens are here.”

“All two of them…”

“And I have the utmost confidence in both of them, Nyviel. Have faith.”

Nyviel clutched the necklace that Renya had given her. She gulped, then nodded.

Hespith’s voice started again, and the party carefully made their way forward. Grey Wardens or no, each party member had their weapons out as they walked down the halls and peeked around corners warily.

“They took Laryn. They made her eat the others, our friends. She… tore off her husband’s face and drank his blood.”

“Oh, I’m going to be sick,” Leliana choked out. She heard Renya murmuring next to her.

“Mythal, preserve me….” Renya swallowed. “Dirthamen, protect my thoughts… Ghilan’nain, steer my path…”

Leliana took a deep breath and began to pray to herself, as well. “Though all around me is darkness, yet the Maker shall guide my path…” she whispered to herself.

“And while she ate,” Hespith’s voice continued, inexorable. “She grew. She swelled and turned gray and she smelled like them. They made her in their image.” A pause. “Then she made more of them… Broodmother.”

“Broodmother?” Renya echoed.

“Maker…” Alistair murmured so only Renya could hear. “Those are… they’re what make darkspawn. Transformed dwarves, or elves, or humans… it’s…” He shuddered. “I’ve never seen one, but I don’t think it sounds particularly pleasant.”

“Broodmother…” Haspith’s whisper was echoing around them. They had come to another bend in the path, and tentatively Alistair and Renya stepped around it.

They both immediately jumped backwards.

“Is that a broodmother?” Renya asked with repulsion.

The creature was an enormous, sickly-pink blob, with tentacles securing it to the ground and others waving around it, reaching toward the Wardens’ party. They were luckily too far away for the tentacles to grab, but there was no way to go around this creature without winding up in its grasp.

The broodmother roared, and spit green and brown bile at them, but again they were too far away. It grabbed one of its many breasts in a move that would have been seductive on any other humanoid creature, but seemed perverse on the fleshly monster in front of them.

“How do we kill it?” Nyviel asked, her eyes wide.

“With fire?” Oghren suggested. “Heh, fire’ll kill anything, won’t it?”

“If it’s darkspawn,” Alistair said seriously, looking at the mages. “Fire _would_ be very effective.”

Renya groaned. “Darkspawn,” she repeated, turning toward the hoard that had just appeared. And with that, they charged.

After that, it was hard to keep track of what was going on. Vaguely Renya was aware of Morrigan enchanting Leliana’s arrows and Zevran’s knives with fire and pushing Nyviel away from one of the tentacles. She noticed briefly how Alistair and Sten were fighting darkspawn back to back, and a distant howl let her known that Elgar was likewise engaged.

“These smell horrible when squished.” Shale’s voice floated past Renya as she desperately tried to fight off the unending wave of darkspawn. Briefly, she wondered if this was what the Calling would be like. With a yell she pushed a particularly large hurlock away from her.

And then she was in the air. When her back had been turned, one of the broodmother’s tentacles had grabbed her around the waist, pinned her arms to her sides, and hoisted her high above the fighting. She was brought closer and closer to the broodmother’s face, and turned her head away as she smelled its putrid breath. The thing grinned horribly at her with its cracked and misshaped teeth.

The monster opened its mouth and Renya shut her eyes. A bellow caused her to open them again. A flaming arrow had landed very close to its eye, causing the monster to turn its head at the last moment, therefore missing Renya as it spewed its bile. Renya felt lightheaded. She blinked her eyes furiously; losing consciousness now would help no one.

The tentacle tightened its grip around her, crushing Renya’s lungs. She winced in pain but had enough of her senses remaining to close her mouth and eyes and turn her head away as much as she could as the broodmother vomited at her again. Renya kept her eyes and mouth closed, feeling something wet and sticky on her face. She felt herself being violently shaken, and heard another roar come from the broodmother following a series of whistles that could only be arrows splitting through the air.

And as suddenly as she had been plucked from the ground, she was falling again. With a horrible squish, Renya landed in a pile of bloody flesh from an unidentifiable creature. She felt herself being dragged onto a harder surface, followed by someone rubbing cloth on her face.

“Hold your breath,” Wynne commanded before Renya felt water dumped on her. The cloth came back, roughly wiping her skin.

“Morrigan, you’re going to hurt her.”

“This must be taken off her. You saw what it did to that dwarf!”

Renya lay limply, wheezing. The cloth disappeared and then was back, this time much more gently as it rubbed around her eyes and around her nose and mouth. She felt the cloth move slowly down the scar on the side of her face and smiled.

Her smile was interrupted by another splash of water. She spluttered and opened her eyes, coughing, cringing in pain, and then coughing again. Morrigan was standing above her with her staff raised; water appeared to be dripping from it. Leliana was crouched next to her with a cloth now covered in the broodmother’s green and brown bile. The bard was glaring at the witch who was looking down at Renya apprehensively.

“And how are you feeling, Warden?”

“I… I can’t… breathe…”

Wynne was crouched next to her a moment later, placing her hands on the griffons on Renya’s armor. Her hands glowed softly, and suddenly Renya felt her lungs open up.

“Ma serannas, Wynne,” Renya said, breathing heavily. Leliana dropped the dirty cloth and helped Renya to her feet.

“Here, Warden,” Morrigan handed her a small canister. “Drink this.”

Leliana raised an eyebrow at her. Morrigan rolled her eyes. “’Tis water, nothing more. Shall I test it for you?” she added mockingly.

Renya pressed her lips together in a thin line. She wasn’t really in the mood for Morrigan’s attitude.

“Yes, please,” Leliana replied coldly. Morrigan leveled her gaze at her, shook her head, and sipped from the canister. She paused, staring at Leliana defiantly, and then handed it to the Warden.

“Water, as I said,” Morrigan said haughtily. “See? No ill effects. Direct your accusing eyes elsewhere, bard. I will not harm the Warden. I tire of saying this to you.”

“That’s where they come from,” echoed a voice from the rafters, cutting off whatever Leliana was going to say. The companions looked up warily and saw Hespith staring down at them. “That’s why they hate us… that’s why they need us. That’s why they take us… that’s why the feed us.” She shook her head sadly.

“But the true abomination… is not that it occurred, but that it was allowed.”

Renya glanced at Leliana, who was gripping her shoulders tightly to steady her. She was beginning to think that Hespith had been talking about two different kinds of monsters all along.

Hespith turned away. “Branka… my love… The stone has punished me, dream-friend. I am dying of something worse than death… Betrayal.” And she disappeared.

“Well,” Zevran said a few silent moments later. “I for one am very glad that is over.”

“Me too,” Alistair agreed.

“Are you okay to walk?” Leliana asked gently, still holding on to Renya’s shoulders.

“Yes, I am fine. I am fine,” Renya said, giving her head a little shake, glancing at the broodmother who was now hunched forward, dead. “Let’s just get out of here quickly.”

They made it to the next room without incident, all of them walking along silently. Renya’s headache was throbbing again, and she was missing the irritating soothing of the gentle voice. With a sigh, she pulle out another potion and drank it. The headache decreased a little and she sighed in relief, even though the gentle throb was still there.

A soft thump from behind them caused them to pause and turn.

Wynne was lying on the ground, unconscious. Renya hurried over and crouched next to her.

“Wynne?”

After a few painfully long seconds had passed, Wynne opened her eyes and sat up. Renya put a steadying arm around her. Wynne looked at her mildly.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I fell down.”

Renya blinked at her. “Are… you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Your concern is appreciated.” Wynne stood up and waved Renya away as the elf tried to help her. “I am an old lady, not used to such strain. I am fine.” But Renya noticed that Wynne didn’t completely meet her eyes.

“Hm.”

Wynne sighed. “We will speak of this later. Not now. For now we must press on.”

“Are you sure you will be alright? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

The mage smiled and placed a hand on Renya’s shoulder. “Again, your concern is touching. But I am fine. Thank you, Renya.”

They decided to rest, anyway.

“Before anyone else collapses from exhaustion,” Renya said dryly.

“We should press on,” Morrigan offered. Renya closed her eyes, the soothing voice in her mind swelling for a moment. The sooner they complete their quest, the sooner they could get out of the Deep Roads, after all. She opened her eyes and her gaze fell on Alistair supporting Wynne. She sighed.

“We rest,” she said shortly. A stab of pain went through her temples in response.

***

Their short rest turned into setting up camp, eating, and lying down for naps. Nyviel was mending one of Zevran’s tunics after the Anvitan spectacularly pulled out the seam in his attempt to fix one of the holes. She was also watching over the camp as the fire burned low. She sighed when she saw Renya sitting by herself, staring off into the darkness. Leliana had tried to follow her, but Renya had waved her away. The bard was now fast asleep next to Nyviel, her face twitching into small frowns.

“Non… _non_ …”

“Oh, no…” Nyviel murmured, rising to get Renya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Deep Roads. Fun times, right? Sigh.
> 
>  
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	103. Another Girl's Turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning* Leliana has a pretty intense nightmare about her time as a prisoner, and discusses it afterward. There is much that is alluded to, although it's not graphically described.

_Leliana lay on the cold stones, sobbing. She had just crawled back into her clothing after being healed, again. She could still smell them on her, and pulled herself into a corner, trying to wipe the sweat that wasn’t hers off of her skin with the old blanket they allowed her._

_They delighted in her screams, it seemed, and when she struggled. When she finally lost her strength, only then would they tie her up and bring out the more conventional instruments of torture. She tried to stand, but her feet were still hurting from the switch he had beaten them with. He had seemed disappointed when the beating hadn’t aroused her._

_“Marjolaine said you liked it rough, ‘pretty thing’,” he had growled in her ear, slapping her backside so the sound reverberated off the stones. “What’s wrong?”_

_He had then pulled out a hot poker from the nearby fire. Leliana’s eyes grew wide._

_“I… I do. I do!” she had insisted, feeling nauseous as to what that meant would be coming next – again. But anything would be better than what the metal against her skin would be like._

_“Do you?” He stroked her face before kissing her roughly. Leliana felt the heated metal close to her thigh. “Make me believe you.”_

_“I…”_

_He slapped her, then waited._

_“…yes…” Leliana murmured, not looking at him. He raised his eyebrows, then grabbed her hair, pulling it so their eyes met. She gasped in pain._

_“More?” he offered._

_A tear trickled out of Leliana’s eye. “…please…”_

_“Oh, I like that. A girl with manners…”_

_Now, Leliana pulled the blanket to herself, as if wishing to cover herself even more. She heard shouts and whoops coming from the hallway, and withdrew._

_“No…” she murmured as the door swung open. Men poured into the cell, grabbing at her._

_“No! Please!” she cried, pulling away. She looked up into their faces and screamed when she saw that what she thought were men were actually darkspawn. They were pulling her into the dark hallway, her clothes ripping off. Raleigh watched her with a lewd grin, following after her, unbuttoning his pants as he transformed into a towering hurlock._

_“No! No! Stop!”_

***

Leliana felt something holding onto her, its hand pressed over her mouth and its arms pinning hers to her sides. She fought back, biting into the flesh and hearing a hiss of pain, but the hand didn’t disappear.

“Leliana!”

Something was holding onto her legs now, too, and she struggled against it, her cries muffled. She could taste blood in her mouth, and vaguely wondered how poisonous darkspawn blood was.

“Ara ma’desen melan…” Another hiss as Leliana bit the hand again. “Ma garas mir renan… Wake up, Lelia…”

Slowly Leliana stopped struggling as she recognized the voice speaking to her. The soft syllables spoken in her ear were not the harsh words Raleigh or his men had ever used, and…

She finally relaxed and opened her eyes. It was relatively dark, the nearby fire only embers now, but she saw blue glints shining up at her from where her legs were.

“Vhenan…” she heard Renya breathe into her ear as the hand disappeared from her mouth.

“Maker,” came Nyviel’s voice from around her knees. “Are you alright?”

Oghren’s shadow joined them.

“Warden…?” he asked tentatively.

“Just a nightmare,” Renya murmured into Leliana’s ear, her arms never leaving her. “Just a nightmare. We are fine. Ma serannas.”

Oghren nodded and went back to where he had been standing guard.

Nyviel quietly rose and began to set up her bedroll closer to the burning embers. She padded back and took Renya’s hand without comment, silently healing it before walking away.

Leliana took Renya’s hand next, tracing her fingers over the teeth marks still indented in her flesh, tears shimmering in her eyes. She let Renya quietly move them so Leliana was sitting in the elf’s lap, and felt comforted when Renya pulled her close, letting her rest her head on the elf’s shoulder.

“Your hands are freezing,” Renya commented softly. She took the hand she was holding and pressed it against her chest, and Leliana felt warmth emanating from under her leather armor. She snuggled closer as Renya pulled a blanket around them, leaning against the stone wall.

Leliana listened to Renya’s heartbeat, letting it soothe her. She felt like she ought to tell Renya what had happened, but the elf’s silent presence asked for no explanation. Leliana sighed. Even here, even when she was struggling, Renya silently accepted what Leliana gave her, never asking for more than the bard wanted to give.

“That broodmother was once a dwarf,” Leliana murmured. She felt Renya shift as if to look at her.

“Yes,” she breathed back.

“Are there other broodmothers?”

Renya covered Leliana’s hand, still pressed to her chest. “I would imagine so, yes.”

“Ones made of elves?”

“Probably.”

“And… and humans?”

“…probably.” Renya’s tone sounded clinical, but she held Leliana tighter, suspecting they were reaching the subject of her nightmare.

“They… they change them… The darkspawn, then?”

“Yes.”

“And… and impregnate them…?”

Renya stayed quiet for a long time. Leliana buried her face in Renya’s neck.

“They will not take you, Lelia,” Renya said quietly. “I will not allow this.” She felt her neck grow wet, but Leliana’s breathing was deceptively even.

“This isn’t a dream, this isn’t one of my nightmares…” the bard murmured into Renya’s skin.

Renya didn’t comment. No, this was not a dream. It was, however, a nightmare.

Leliana pulled away a little. “I… I cannot imagine… I… one of the first things I purchased after I joined the Chantry was pennyroyal…”

She chanced a glance at the elf, who blinked at her, not understanding.

“It… it can cleanse your body of… of unwanted children, should you be carrying one…”

The green glints narrowed.

“Knives and whips and other metal devices are not the only ways to break someone…” Leliana admitted in an ashamed whisper, leaning back into Renya. The elf’s heartbeat was much faster now. A little growl escaped her, and Leliana couldn’t help the small smile at Renya’s protectiveness. There, in the safety of Renya’s arms, Leliana tentatively spoke of what her dream had been.

Renya sat silently for a long time.

“I should have killed her,” she finally said with a hint of a snarl. “I should have killed her, slowly and painfully. Her, and her little canary…”

Leliana sat up quickly. “No,” she protested. If Renya’s love for her would reduce her to such actions, then as soon as they were above ground again Leliana would run as far away as quickly as she could. Back to the Chantry, back to Orlais, anywhere to keep this elf from stooping to such a low. “No, Renya… You’re…” She had no idea what to say next.

Renya sighed. “Dalish,” she finished for her. She held Leliana, if possible, closer. “They are not going to take you,” she said again. “None of them. No darkspawn, no human. No one. I promise,” she finished in a whisper, kissing Leliana gently. “I promise you.”

Leliana closed her eyes and nodded, feeling much warmer cuddled next to the elf and underneath the blankets Renya had pulled around them. She meant to tell Renya how much that meant, but peaceful sleep took her before she could cobble the thought together.

Renya sighed, looking out over the camp. Oghren was still on guard, patrolling with warrior-like precision. Renya closed her eyes, listening to the singing. She opened her eyes again, ears twitching. No, she could not sleep. Not when Leliana was so close; she would be in danger. With another heaving breath, Renya settled herself in for another long night.

***

“Let me be blunt with you,” called a crass-sounding voice from somewhere above them the next day. They had been walking for hours, and were now in a labyrinth of a room. A female dwarf appeared, staring over the rocks at them. She came into better view, and Renya saw that the dwarf was quite well-outfit with armor and weapons. The Warden eyed her warily.

“After all this time,” the dwarf was saying now. “My tolerance for social graces is fairly limited. That doesn’t bother you, I hope.”

Oghren’s face split into a wide grin. “Well shave my back and call me an elf!” he exclaimed, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the three elves around him. “Branka! By the Stone, I hardly recognized you!”

“Oghren,” Branka said coldly. “It figured you’d eventually find your way here. Hopefully you can find you way back more easily.”

“Ouch,” Zevran muttered.

Branka leveled her gaze at Renya. “And how shall I address you? Hired sword of the latest lordling to come looking for me? Or just the only one who didn’t mind Oghren’s ale-breath?”

Renya frowned. As disagreeable as Oghren could be, that didn’t seem very fair. He was her husband, and concerned for her, after all. She decided that she didn’t like Branka very much.

Oghren was looking at Branka in outrage. “Be respectful, woman! You’re talking to a Grey Warden!”

Branka looked unimpressed. “Ah, so an important errand boy, then.” She considered them. “I suppose something serious has happened. Is Endrin dead? That seems most likely. He was on the old and wheezy side.”

“How do you know I’m not just helping Oghren?” Renya interjected. Branka laughed.

“Because no one helps Oghren. At best, Oghren’s desires lined up with those of someone much more important than him.”

“You are impossible, woman!” Oghren growled at her. “The king is dead, the assembly is deadlocked, and Orzammar needs you to help sort out who will be the next king!”

“I don’t care if the assembly puts a drunken monkey on the throne!” Branka shouted back. “Because our protector, our great invention, the thing that once made our armies the envy of the world, is lost to the very darkspawn it should be fighting.”

“I see the attraction here,” Zevran whispered to Nyviel. “This dwarf is quite charming.”

Branka continued. “The Anvil of the Void! The means by which the ancients forged their army of golems and held off the first archdemon ever to rise. It’s here. So close I can taste it…” She looked at the Wardens expectantly.

Renya arched an eyebrow. “But of course there is a catch…”

The dwarf nodded. “The Anvil lies on the other side of a gauntlet of traps designed by Caridin himself,” she began. “My people and I have given body and soul to unlocking its secrets. This is what is important. This has lasting meaning. If I succeed, the dwarven people benefit. Kings, politics… all that is transitory. I’ve given up everything and would sacrifice anything to get the Anvil of the Void.”

“Even Hespith and the other members of your house?” Renya shot back. She couldn’t imagine ever sacrificing her clan, even for an ancient Dalish artifact.

“Enough of this,” Branka spat. “I will find this Anvil and Orzammar will finally return to its glory!”

“What’s happened to you?” Oghren cried now. “The girl I married… you could talk to her for two minutes and see her brilliance. But… you’ve changed, Branka. Who are you?”

Branka nodded in a little bow, a sneer on her lips. “I am your Paragon,” she said mockingly. She disappeared over the other side of the rocks without another word.

“Are all dwarven Paragons like her?” Sten asked. “If so, it is no wonder the dwarven population is dwindling.”

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” Oghren said.

“Come on,” Renya muttered, continuing walking. She rubbed her head and pulled another one of Morrigan’s purple potions from her pack. With a sigh, she drank it in one gulp.

“It means what it sounds like,” Sten continued. “I do not understand why anyone would want to mate with someone who so carelessly sacrifices the lives of others for her own gain.”

“You heard her,” Oghren said. “She wants the Anvil for Orzammar.”

“And she will not benefit from being the dwarf who has returned this creation to the dwarves?”

“Well…keep your big nose out of my business…” Oghren grumbled back.

Sten sighed. “This is madness.”

“This is a gauntlet?” Renya cut in before Oghren could respond. They were standing in a large cavern lined with glowing blue veins of lyrium. In the middle stood a giant statue of four connected faces, each with glowing red eyes. Each pair of eyes seemed to be locked on one of four anvils on the platform. In front of all this stood the ghost of a dwarf with an enormous maul.

“Careful,” Alistair said softly with a grin. “There’ll be riddles, next.”

Renya chuckled. “Right. Telgaras solasan… I should remember to not be prideful.”

They approached the shadowy dwarf, who raised a hand to stop their progress. Once they stopped, he lowered his hand but didn’t say anything. They stood staring at each other for a long time.

“So, is this gauntlet just trying to make us feel uncomfortable to death?” Nyviel whispered to Leliana. The bard stifled a grin.

“Oh sod it,” Oghren said gruffly a few silent minutes later. He stomped up to the dwarf and started to pass him, but jumped back as the specter swung his maul at him. It glanced off Oghren’s armor, knocking the dwarf back a little.

“I’ll give yer what for!” Oghren yelled, swinging his equally-massive battle-axe. The blade passed right through the ghost as if cutting through air, and the ghost merely looked at Oghren blandly.

“Warden.” Sten nodded to Renya as he marched up to the specter, but was met with a similar reception as Oghren. His Asala had no effect on the ghost, either.

“What is this magic?” he rumbled.

“’Tis interesting,” Morrigan said now. “Perhaps the dead dwarf will only let certain people pass. ‘Tis a crude method, but effective.”

“Right,” Alistair said, squaring his shoulders. He stepped forward with more confidence than his face suggested he was feeling. The ghost didn’t acknowledge him as he walked onto the platform. Alistair turned and shrugged.

“I am next, then?” Renya offered. She, too, had no trouble getting past the dwarf. She and Alistair stood shoulder to shoulder on the platform.

“There is only one of him,” Zevran said. “And many of us. Perhaps if we all rushed him…”

“Weapons pass right through him,” Nyviel protested. “More weapons won’t change that.”

The crunching of stone on stone silenced any further argument. The enormous statue was slowly spinning. It stopped and shot out a pulse of energy that almost knocked Renya and Alistair down, before four new dwarven ghosts appeared. These, however, responded to weaponry as if they were corporeal.

Although they were outnumbered, Alistair and Renya fought the dwarves bravely.

“Just… stay down!” Alistair shouted, bashing one of the ghosts with his shield. As each dwarf perished, it seemed to be sucked into one of the anvils. Once all four were dispersed, Renya approached the nearest anvil tentatively. It was glowing slightly.

A singing, soothing voice slowly drowned out the archdemon’s singing.

“Do you hear that?” she asked Alistair, not taking her eyes off the anvil in front of her. The soothing voice was calling to her, telling her to draw closer to the anvil.

“Hear what? Renya, are you alright?”

She reached out to touch the anvil as if possessed, part of her mind screaming at her to stop. But the gentle voice was so insistent…

Her hand made contact, and a beam of energy shot out from the anvil, through Renya, and into the statue. Renya flew backwards as the statue rotated again, and she pulled herself to her feet in time to be knocked down by another pulse released from the statue. Another crash announced that Alistair had been similarly knocked down.

“Renya!” Leliana’s voice cut through the throbbing in Renya’s head.

“No!” came a chorus of voices. Out of the side of her eye, Renya vaguely saw Wynne, Nyviel, and Morrigan pull Leliana back as she ran for the platform.

“Fenedhis lasa,” Renya grumbled as she got up again. She wiped her forehead, sighing when she saw blood. She was sure the floor was moving in ways it hadn’t been moments before, and she shook her head experimentally. Four more dwarves appeared.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alistair said, readying himself again.

Again, the felled dwarves added energy to another of the anvils. Renya eyed it warily, blinking and shaking her head as the singing tried to draw her to the anvil again. Alistair, with a little smile at her, approached the anvil, took a deep breath, and placed his hand on its surface. Both Wardens were knocked back as the beam, seemingly more powerful than the last one, shot from the anvil to the statue.

“Well that wasn’t very fun,” Alistair said with a groan as he got up and helped Renya to her feet. The statue rotated again.

“How many times do we have to do this?” Renya asked, wincing as she moved her shoulders.

“Only two more anvils, look,” the other Warden replied with a nod to the other side of the platform. He readied his shield with a heave and a hiss of pain. It was like the anvils were sucking the energy out of them.

More dwarven ghosts appeared and died at the Wardens’ hands. Both Alistair and Renya looked at the third anvil apprehensively.

“Can’t you shield them?” Leliana asked Nyviel, still being held onto by the younger elf.

“I am surprised the Warden allowed Alistair to become injured,” Morrigan commented to no one in particular. Nyviel looked at her incredulously but didn’t respond.

Back on the platform, Renya was walking toward the third anvil. The gentle voice was back, disappointed she had put Alistair in danger…

“Is it my turn?” she asked him, raising her eyebrows. As soon as Renya looked at the anvil, the gentle voice grew louder and she found herself drawn forward again.

Alistair watched her move toward the anvil as if in a trance, then quickly stepped forward and elbowed her out of the way. He shot her a concerned look before placing his hand on the anvil. Again, energy pulsed through their bodies and they were thrown backward.

“Last time. Please, Maker, last time,” Alistair panted as he rose and more dwarven ghosts appeared. He was having trouble raising his weapon.

At last they looked at the final anvil, glowing brightly. Renya found herself pulled toward it again, the gentle voice loud in her ears.

“You really can’t hear that, lethallin?” she breathed. “It’s so beautiful…”

“Renya? No, don’t. Let me…”

But Renya was too quick for him, dragged forward by that insistent, gentle voice. She couldn’t let Alistair come to harm, after all. With every fiber of her being screaming at her to stop, she lunged at the anvil and grabbed it with both hands. The energy from the anvil passed through her and she screamed, not able to let go.

“Renya!” Alistair tried to grab her, but the light engulfing her seemed to create a barrier between them. Finally it was over, and the elf sunk to her knees, still gripping the anvil.

She felt herself grabbed by many hands, hauling her to her feet and pulling her off the platform.

“Are you alright, Renya?” Leliana asked softly. Renya looked up at her, and Leliana shivered when she saw the pain still etched on Renya’s face.

“I do not think I will ever complain about riddles again,” she replied weakly. She pulled herself to her feet.

“Renya, maybe we should take a moment…” Alistair began. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, looking exhausted.

Renya nodded in agreement. “We should,” she said, rubbing her temples. She turned to the others. “We can camp in that little alcove over there,” she added, pointing to a place across the room and far away from the four-faced statue.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alistair,” Morrigan said, glaning at Renya and then quickly away. “This place is obviously not safe.”

Renya shook her head, then clenched her teeth. She was determined to not groan in pain. The gentle voice swelled over the throbbing and singing in her mind, soothing her. It would be okay, but they needed to get out of this place. Now.

“You are right,” she replied after a moment. The gentle voice suddenly soothed her pain. “Let’s just keep going. We have to make camp soon, and I would rather be farther away from this place, in case the whispering starts again. Elgar,” she added, turning to the dog who was standing anxiously by her. “Garas. Let’s go.” And she set off.

“Why would she change her mind so suddenly?” Leliana whispered to Alistair. She caught Morrigan watching Renya with interest – and a little guilt – before striding off and falling into step beside the elf. Leliana’s face darkened.

“Let’s just keep walking,” Nyviel added quietly, her eyes on the back of Morrigan’s head. “We’ll have to stop soon.”

Meanwhile, Morrigan was walking beside Renya. The elf glanced over at her but didn’t say anything. Morrigan, likewise, didn’t break the silence. They walked soundlessly next to each other for a long time, with Renya trying very hard to ignore the whispering coming from behind her. Finally Morrigan turned to her.

“Warden…”

“Leave me alone, Morrigan.” Renya squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. It sounded like two armies were battling for supremacy of her thoughts. One was the archdemon singing, and the other was a soft caress of a voice, soothing, enchanting…

The witch blinked, startled. “Excuse me?”

The singing exploded in Renya’s mind, drowning out the soft voice.

“I said leave me alone!” Renya snarled, spinning on her heel and drawing her hunting knife. She pointed it at the witch’s throat. The witch took a step back, eyes wide, and Renya checked herself, looking troubled. She put the knife away, suddenly very aware of the eyes of her companions on her.

“Morrigan… ir abelas,” she murmured, frowning and rubbing her forehead. “I…” She closed her eyes. The singing had decreased a moment when she had pulled her knife, but now it was back as loudly as before. “I don’t know what came over me,” she finished, opening her eyes.

Morrigan was looking at her with shock. And was that a little sorrow behind the gold eyes as well?

Renya shook her head and glanced around at the small cavern they had come to. It was fairly quiet, but she didn’t trust her Warden senses anymore. She turned to Alistair.

“Should we camp here?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t sense any darkspawn nearby,” he said after a moment. “Do you?”

“No,” she agreed swiftly. The singing in her head was driving her mad, and the soft voice beside it was just as irritating. She just wanted someone else to make a decision for once. “Let’s rest here for the night.”

Renya took her meal far away from the rest of the group, and no one besides Elgar ventured near her for a long time. She stroked his ears absentmindedly, and he rested his head on her knee soberly.

“You know something is wrong, don’t you, Elgar?” she asked him in Dalish. He whined at her in response. She sighed. “I’m worried, too.”

The night wore on, and neither elf nor dog made any move to sit closer to the campfire with the other travelers. Renya turned away Nyviel, Zevran, Wynne, and Alistair in turn as they came over to try and convince her to rest. Now Leliana was sitting next to her.

“Come to bed, my love,” she finally ventured after a few long silent minutes passed. Renya sighed and Leliana responded by looping their arms together. “Come to bed,” she said more quietly. “You need to rest.”

“No.”

Now it was Leliana’s turn to sigh. She decided to keep the conversation as light as possible.

“No?” she said with a small smile. “I think everyone needs to rest. Even you, sometimes.”

Renya shook her head. “I’m not sleeping so close to the camp tonight.”

“Why-?”

“I almost stabbed Morrigan. I know you saw that,” Renya replied flatly before Leliana could finish her question. She twisted the ring on her finger. “I don’t know what happened.” She twisted the ring faster. “Yes, I do,” she admitted quietly. “The singing is getting worse. I can feel the archdemon down here. He sings to me. The music is so…” She stopped talking, horrified at what she had been about to say.

“Terrible?” Leliana offered.

“Yes,” Renya lied. She closed her eyes as Leliana leaned against her.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Leliana murmured, kissing Renya’s temple. She rose and pulled Renya to her feet. “Come to bed, Renya. I’ll keep you safe.”

Renya pressed her lips together at the empty promise. Leliana couldn’t keep her safe from the archdemon’s call. The bard misinterpreted Renya’s silence.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said again, turning and walking back toward the camp.

“You should be,” Renya whispered quietly so Leliana couldn’t hear her. The singing in her head had gotten louder, again, when Leliana had sat next to her, screaming at her to hurt her. Her thoughts went to Tamlen.

 _“Don’t want… to hurt you, lethallan.”_ She understood the feeling now.

Renya watched quietly as Leliana pulled the elf’s bedroll next to hers. She really was beautiful, Renya thought to herself, watching Leliana arrange the blankets. No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than the singing increased and she wanted to throw Leliana into the stone walls of the cavern and drive her sword through her. She gasped and gave herself a little shake. This was a terrible idea.

“Renya…” Leliana said gently, standing in front of the two rolls. Reluctantly, Renya walked over and allowed herself to be pulled down next to the bard. Leliana fussed over her a little, arranging the blankets around her before settling in herself. She wrapped her arms around Renya and frowned when she felt the elf stiffen.

“Shall I tell you a story?” Leliana asked softly.

Renya closed her eyes and didn’t respond. Normally she liked listening to Leliana tell stories, and she she enjoyed her Orlesian accent immensely. But now, every word she said only added to the intensity of the archdemon’s singing.

“No, Lelia. Not tonight.” She kept her face carefully blank as Leliana gave her a little squeeze and brushed her lips against Renya’s forehead.

“As you say,” Leliana replied quietly. “Sleep well, my love.”

“Melava somniar.” Renya listened as Leliana’s breathing became deeper and she fell asleep, intent on staying awake herself. Once she was sure Leliana was asleep, she rose and walked a few feet away, staring off into the darkness and drinking another one of the purple potions. She was disappointed when her headache didn’t completely disappear and the archdemon’s singing didn’t decrease.

With a sigh, she occupied herself with listening to the regular dripping sound of water trickling off the stalactites and by counting how many drips occurred during one of Alistair’s snores. It was a very long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mythal'enaste... Are we there yet?
> 
>  
> 
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	104. Her Screams, We Hear in Our Dreams

_The settlement was dying. Aravel were smashed, and some looked as though their inhabitants had still been inside. Strewn on the ground were bodies of her friends. Nolith, his bloodied head resting on a rock, stared at her with unseeing eyes. Pol, the city elf who had returned to the Dalish, was being stabbed by a large hurlock, and Renya felt a perverse pleasure watching the elf die, although part of her knew that feeling this way was wrong._

_Something shimmering caught her eye, and she walked over to where a group of darkspawn were standing. An elf with black hair and a mage’s staff was lying on the ground, trying to fend off the group of monsters with the magic from her hands. The elf looked up into Renya’s face without recognition – worse, she looked into it with hatred._

_“Get back, foul creature,” she slurred, sending one final pulse of energy at her. Renya and the darkspawn were knocked back, and Renya sat up in time to see the elf go limp. Renya frowned; she didn’t know who this elf was, but felt sad that she had died. She went over to look at the dead elf. There was something so familiar about the markings on her face, something comforting about the olive eyes._

_“…Merrill…?”_

_Why hadn’t Merrill recognized her? And why hadn’t_ she _recognized Merrill?_

Will you become this monster? _Renya’s ears twitched as a gentle voice floated past on the wind._ You must fight the demon, or you will destroy everything.

_Renya turned and the scene shifted. She was standing on top of a tower with a horde of darkspawn, but they didn’t seem to notice her. A man in Grey Warden armor and a large qunari were fighting back to back, and a red-haired woman was frantically firing arrows from a bow that could only have been crafted by the Elvhen. A woman with grey hair had already fallen, and another elf and an elven mage were quickly being outnumbered. Renya thought that perhaps someone was missing, but she couldn’t be sure, and didn’t know why she had thought that at all._

_A giant dragon appeared, breathing fire. Renya took a step back, but the monster didn’t seem to notice her. It was focusing on the others. But one, an elf she hadn’t noticed before, had charged forward and stabbed the dragon as soon as it bowed its head. Renya watched as the dragon collapsed with a cry and the elf fell next to it._

_“No!” cried the woman with red hair. “No! Please!” She ran over and knelt next to the elf, picking her up and cradling her. “Please… please don’t…” She kissed the elf’s bloody forehead before bowing her head and beginning to cry. “Please…”_

_Renya frowned, then her eyes widened as the face of the woman became clearer. “Leliana…?” Her throat constricted as she watched Leliana sob over the dead body of the elf. “…Lelia…?”_

Would you cause her suffering? _The voice was back as the scene faded before Renya’s eyes._ Would you leave them all behind?

_In the darkness, Renya heard people crying and shouting. A baby’s cry cut through it all, and all the other sounds began to quiet until just the infant remained. Renya walked over to where a small bundle lay on the ground, fussing. She started to unwrap the swaddling._

Would you give up a chance at a new life?

_Renya’s heart was racing as she unwrapped more of the blankets. Her ears twitched. A terrible singing was vying for her attention. The gentle voice was trying to say something else to her, but it was distorted now with horrible notes that made Renya’s blood run cold and soothed her all at once._

_She flipped back the last bit of blanket and jumped back as the giant head of a dragon forced its way from the opening. As Renya scrambled away, the dragon pushed out from the small bundle until it flapped, enormous, in front of her. The singing was almost deafening._

_“Renya?”_

_The sounds around her immediately began to warble. The elf glanced behind her and she saw Leliana looking at her curiously. The bard didn’t seem to notice the dragon hovering in front of them. Nor did she seem aware of the darkspawn charging for her. Renya reached for her sword, but it was gone; she was left with only her hunting knife. She drew it and brandished it at the beast._

_“You will not have her!” she hissed as the darkspawn overwhelmed her. She felt tears dripping down her face. “You will_ not _have her!”_

***

Renya woke with a yell, staring around wildly and brandishing her knife. She was surrounded by darkspawn, looking at her curiously. A familiar voice cut through her panic.

“Renya… hush…”

Renya blinked. Her friends came into focus.

“Leliana?”

The bard was gripping her wrist, holding the hunting knife away from her.

“Yes, my love. It’s alright. You’re safe now.” The bard had scrambled over to where Renya had fallen asleep. She stroked Renya’s cheek, ignoring the stares of their companions standing around them.

Renya shook her head, looking troubled.

“It’s alright,” Leliana repeated soothingly, releasing Renya’s wrist. “You’re safe.”

A tear threatened to leak out of Renya’s eyes, but she brushed it away before it had the chance. She couldn’t remember a time she had ever felt less safe; even her own mind wasn’t safe anymore. She rubbed her vallaslin, almost disappointed.

“Renya, you’re awake, thank the Maker,” Wynne said, crouching nearby. “I don’t know what dark dreams you were having, but we were unable to wake you for the longest time…”

Renya stood up and rolled her shoulders. “I am fine. Just a bad dream.” She rubbed her vallaslin again. “How soon can we move out?”

“We can leave after we break the fast,” Alistair offered, handing her a piece of jerky. She took it with a nod.

“Good. The sooner we leave, the better. I want to find this anvil and get back to Orzammar as soon as possible.”

With that, she began packing up her bedroll and securing it to her pack, halfheartedly eating the dried meat Alistair had given her. She took the waterskin Morrigan handed her without comment, took a drink, and then attached it, too, to her traveling pack. Leliana put her hand on Renya’s shoulder, and the elf pulled away violently.

“Renya,” Leliana said softly.

“Go eat, Leliana,” Renya said without looking at her.

“Let me help you…”

“Leave me alone!” the elf snapped, staring at her wildly. Her hand grabbed her knife but she stopped herself before drawing it. “Go. Eat,” she repeated more quietly, breathing heavily and forcing her hand off of the blade.

“Are you alright?” Leliana ventured a few awkward moments later.

“No.” And Renya turned her back and continued packing with more vigor than before. She looked troubled. “No,” she repeated. “I am not.”

She watched Leliana as she walked over to the fire and then pulled out another purple potion from her pack. The liquid fizzed in its vial; its effectiveness had begun to wane, and it no longer completely stopped the archdemon’s song. But as long as it still helped…

She didn’t notice Morrigan watching her as she drank the potion in one swallow.

***

_“Hello?” Renya called, dark swirls of smoke twirling around her. “Hello?”_

_“Where are you?” a slow, soothing voice answered from the mist._

_“Who are you?” Renya countered._

_“I could ask the same of you. Where are you going? What have you left behind? Have you decided yet?”_

_“Who are you?” Renya asked again, feeling uneasy._

_“You must be ready,” the soothing voice said from the shadows. “For the end.”_

_Screaming filled the space around her. A roar split through the air, and Renya could hear the crackling of buildings burning. A bellow, followed by the horrific scream of a large animal dying, filled the space around her. Silence followed, but then she thought she heard someone – a woman – crying._

_“No…” the woman sobbed, her Orlesian accent thick as she cried. “No, please… come back… my love, come back to me…”_

_“What? What end? Who are you?” Renya demanded as the smoke became thicker. Her heart was hammering. “What happens at the end? What must I prepare for?”_

_More crying reached Renya’s ears._

_“My poor da’len…”_

_Renya blinked. “Ashalle?” Her voice went higher. “Mamae?”_

_“We do not cremate our deceased,” said another voice – if Renya didn’t know better, she would have said it was Hahren Marathari speaking._

_“Who is there?” she called. Her words were swallowed up by the darkness._

_“I’ll never…” floated Merrill’s voice, before breaking off into a sob._

Renya woke with a start.

“Are you alright, my love?” Leliana murmured, kneeling next to her. “You were thrashing in your sleep.”

“Yes. Yes, I am fine,” Renya panted, rubbing her vallaslin. “Just another nightmare.”

Leliana sighed. “Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked a little more gently. Renya swallowed.

“Yes, Lelia,” the elf murmured. Of course Leliana would walk into the darkness beyond the camp to check on her, even if Renya had told her not to. She took a deep breath. “Everything will be alright.”

***

Morrigan watched Renya sharpening her blades on the far side of camp the following morning, waiting for the others to wake. She tossed her hair from her face and grabbed her staff before walking quietly over to where the elf was seated. Renya’s ears twitched as she came closer.

“Good morning, Morrigan.”

“Good morning, Warden.” Morrigan watched the elf ignore her. “Did you sleep well?”

Renya paused before resuming her rhythmic movements, slowly scraping the whetstone along her blade.

“A change is occurring within you, Warden,” Morrigan began a few silent minutes later.

“Oh? Watching me again, are you?”

Morrigan continued as if she hadn’t heard, ignoring the guilt building inside her. Another push. She would be open to the suggestion now. Another opportunity, this one more curated than the last one.

“You feel the archdemon. ‘Tis the fate of the Grey Wardens, is it not?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“And ‘tis not something that will decrease with time, I imagine?”

The whetstone paused again. “Do you need something, Morrigan?”

“’Tis a hard calling, being a Warden, is it not?”

Renya took a deep breath and continued sharpening. Morrigan arched an eyebrow. Perhaps… not yet ready, after all. She decided to push harder.

“You are asked to make many sacrifices. ‘Tis possible you will be asked to make more. Many more, in fact.”

The Warden blinked, still facing away from Morrigan, pushing her recent nightmares of Leliana alone and crying as far away as possible.

Morrigan nodded. This had to be done; it was her security. “I wonder if you find all the sacrifices worth it?”

Renya began sharpening her blade a little more forcefully. She watched Leliana stretch out of the corner of her eye.

“…and, of course, ‘tis possible that more shall be lost, and not through an intended sacrifice,” Morrigan added delicately, also having noticed the bard awake.

The Warden was on her feet in an instant, gripping her sword tightly and breathing heavily as she glared at Morrigan. She pulsed her jaw a few times.

“Yes,” she growled, her eyes flashing. “That is quite possible.”

“I wonder,” Morrigan posed lightly, ignoring the sword in Renya’s shaking hand. “What you would be willing to do… to save what you have found.”

“I am a Grey Warden,” Renya snapped. “I have my duty.”

Morrigan watched Renya stomp off toward Leliana. The bard turned and startled; Morrigan imagined Renya still looked furious. Leliana reached out toward Renya’s face, but her fingers had barely made contact with Renya’s cheek when the elf pulled away with a shake of her head. Morrigan sighed. Where she had once delighted in watching Renya’s aloof behavior toward Leliana, she now found herself frustrated by the same behaviors.

“There is time yet,” she murmured to herself.

***

“Kadan.”

Renya sighed. “Yes, Sten?”

“I am concerned about your ability to continue leading this group.”

“Again?”

“Yes.”

“Why? What did I do now, Sten?” Renya asked, glaring at him.

“You have not been yourself recently. Recent events have weakened you. I suggest a change in command while you heal.”

“I do not need to heal, Sten. I am fine.”

“Your actions are proving otherwise.”

Renya turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Are they? Well, ir abelas, Sten. I am sorry I was only able to kill half of the darkspawn that we came across in that last room. I figured Alistair wanted some, too. I will be sure to do better next time,” she said sarcastically.

“You are not sleeping,” he replied, looking down at her seriously. “And you look weary. A soldier of the Beresaad would recognize when he is no longer able to perform his task, and give this responsibility to another.”

“Sten,” Renya said through gritted teeth. “I am really not in the mood for this.”

“Hence my concern.”

“I am fine,” Renya said shortly, taking a deep breath. The singing was making her head hurt again. “We have been through this already,” she added as politely as she could. “It is the Grey Wardens’ duty to…”

“You are not fit to lead us, Warden.”

“Perhaps Alistair, then,” Renya offered flatly. Sten shook his head.

“The other Warden is not fit to lead us, either.”

“Hey!” Alistair said indignantly. “I can lead! …I mean, no, nevermind. I don’t want… you’re right…”

Renya’s hand twitched a little as the song changed. It wanted her to fight Sten, was telling her how to beat him. Renya closed her eyes and shook her head. She twisted the ring on her finger; for the first time the action made her angrier.

“Sten,” she said with forced calm. “You really need to stop this conversation now.”

“You are not thinking clearly, Warden,” Sten continued, inexorable.

Renya turned on him, blood pounding in her ears and song screaming in her head. “What do you suggest, then?” She drew her sword. “Do you want to fight me?” She pulled out her dar’misu. “Will that satisfy you?”

“No!” Alistair cried.

“Renya! Stop!” Leliana grabbed Renya’s arm but the elf shook her off.

It was too late. Sten nodded, pulled out his own great, two-handed sword, and swung at the much smaller elf. Renya shoved Leliana out of the way and dodged his attack. She took a deep breath, blood pounding in her ears, and lunged.

“No! Stop it!” Leliana cried, holding her hands out in front of her and taking a step toward the pair furiously fighting each other. Zevran grabbed her.

“Are you mad?” he asked. “If you go over there, you will be killed. Let them work this out.”

Sten’s sword came down, and Renya only just got out of the way in time. His blade grazed her shoulder, but the armor held. The hit only seemed to make her angrier.

“Renya, please…” Leliana whispered, shaking her head. The elf was fighting with a fury than Leliana had never seen before. All the kindness was gone from her eyes, and she stared at Sten with cold hatred as she swung at him.

“Enough!” yelled Wynne, stepping forward and raising her staff. She needn’t have bothered, because before she was able to cast a spell, Renya had knocked Sten down and was holding his head back by his braided hair, her knife to his throat and her knee in his back. His face looked mild as he stared straight ahead with his usual directness, waiting.

It was like a candle had been lit behind Renya’s eyes. She blinked, looked startled, and released the qunari. He rose and stared at her with interest. The elf looked confused and angry all at the same time.

“Lead the way, Kadan,” Sten said softly.

Without looking at anyone, Renya turned, grabbed her pack, and set off down the stone corridor again.

***

The rest of the day’s march was uneventful. Alistair ventured to walk next to Renya, and he had been relieved when his fellow Warden had engaged in light conversation with him. But once he began to turn the conversation to her recent erratic behavior, Renya shook her head.

“I do not know,” she said with a shrug. “The singing. I... I know what it means.”

“That can happen,” Alistair said softly. “Sometimes the older Wardens said that they could understand the horde and the archdemon’s singing, but I’ve never heard of a new recruit having that ability…” He looked troubled.

“Lucky me, then,” Renya said gloomily. Her thoughts went back to the Sabrae. Would it have been so bad to die of the taint there? To have become ill and faded away, safe and happy with her clan? She sighed.

“Why don’t we stop for the day?” Alistair suggested. Renya shrugged and nodded.

Renya ate hurriedly and excused herself from the little fire, stalking off into the relative darkness of the cavern. It was some time later when she heard soft footsteps padding across the stones.

“I am over here, Leliana,” she said quietly.

Leliana startled and turned toward the sound. Two green glints in a shadowy figure were looking at her sadly. She walked over and sat down next to the figure, tentatively resting their shoulders together, and relaxed when Renya didn’t pull away.

“What is it?” Renya asked. Leliana arched an eyebrow.

“Do you really not know?”

Renya sighed. “I am not safe to be around, Lelia,” she said softly. “I have attacked three people in the past few days, including you, and the singing…” She shuddered and Leliana scooted a little closer. “I… Grey Wardens go through something called the Calling. It is part of the… process that makes us Grey Wardens,” she said, hardly believing what she was saying. “At some point, every Grey Warden hears the call of the archdemon, and they will go to the Deep Roads to – what is it? – go down fighting, rather than turn into a monster.”

Leliana didn’t respond.

“I am not supposed to understand the singing, but I feel it in my body. He is calling to me.” Renya took a deep breath. “Like Tamlen.”

“Is this your Calling?” Leliana asked in a very small voice. Renya shook her head.

“No, I do not think so, but… I do not know why I am telling you this. But I think this is why I have been, well, the way I have been recently. I am… I am turning into a monster. I hear the music, and it chills my bones.”

“No, my love,” Leliana said, taking Renya’s hand. Despite what the elf said, her hand was still every bit as warm, firm, and comforting as it ever was. “We are almost to the Anvil, and then this will be over. We will be able to return to Orzammar quickly, and all this will be a memory. Nothing more.” She picked up the elf’s hand and kissed it gently.

Renya sighed, thinking of the journey still ahead of them. But she turned to Leliana. “This will not be a memory, Lelia,” Renya murmured. “One day I will have to leave you.” Her voice caught. “And answer my Calling. We will not have much time together, even if we all survive this Blight.”

Leliana was quiet for a long time. Renya nodded with understanding.

“You are free to leave,” she said now. Perhaps this was what Leliana would want, anyway, if she missed the pleasurable times she had as a bard. “I will not begrudge you –”

“I will not leave you,” Leliana whispered. “Whatever time the Maker grants us, I want to spend mine with you.”

Renya looked down at her knees, equal parts pleased and concerned. “You do not know what you are promising…”

“I do,” Leliana replied forcefully. “I do know what I am promising. I promise you, my love, I will stay by your side until events outside of our control force us apart. And even then, my heart will forever be yours.”

“Lelia…” Renya began with a shake of her head. Leliana turned so she was kneeling and kissed Renya’s cheek. Unbidden, Renya’s hands went to her waist.

She gently pushed Leliana away. “Go back to the camp,” she said, nodding in the direction of the fading campfire. Arms wrapped around her.

“No.”

“Leliana,” Renya repeated. “Go back where it is safer. I will be alright.”

“I will not leave you alone in this darkness,” Leliana said. She wrestled with Renya until they were lying on the stone, and gently placed her head on Renya’s shoulder, smiling when the elf wrapped her arms around her. “If this is where you are going to stay, I’ll stay here, too.”

“Lelia, stop,” Renya said halfheartedly. “You are not safe here. You deserve better.” She closed her eyes as Leliana kissed her cheek, and sighed as the bard’s lips brushed across her ear.

“Hush.” Leliana continued kissing her, landing soft, protective kisses on Renya’s ears, her neck, her vallaslin, and finally she hovered millimeters above Renya’s lips.

“I do love you, Lelia,” Renya breathed. She turned on her side and pulled Leliana into another kiss. “Do not ever forget that.”

Leliana smiled and kissed her back. “I promise, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Renya.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
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	105. Eighth Day

Renya woke with a start the next morning. She blinked, and Leliana came into focus, sleeping peacefully with her forehead resting against Renya’s. The elf smiled; she hadn’t slept well, but it had been a less troubled sleep than over the past few weeks. She kissed Leliana’s forehead reverently.

“Mir enansal,” she murmured as Leliana stirred and opened her eyes.

“Good morning, my love,” Leliana said with a smile, eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Good morning.”

The bard stretched a little. “Did you sleep well?”

Renya hesitated, neither wanting to lie nor tell Leliana the whole truth. But Leilana nodded.

“You slept, and that is something, anyway,” she offered simply. Renya nodded.

“I slept,” she agreed. She closed her eyes again and marveled at the softness of the Orlesian’s skin as Leliana stroked her cheek. The fingertips traced a familiar path down her face, soothing her.

“Thank you for telling me about the Calling,” Leliana said softly a few minutes later. Her fingers glided down the scar on Renya’s face before tracing over her ear. “I know how secretive Grey Warden traditions are.”

“They are,” Renya replied, her eyes still closed.

“I will keep this secret safe, my love. I will carry it with me the same way you do.”

Renya nodded, torn between being touched and wanting to disagree, to tell her that she had no idea what it was like to be a Grey Warden and know that your life will be cut short. A life that was saved, only to be sacrificed at a more convenient time…

“Ma serannas,” was all she said.

***

Renya hurriedly ate breakfast and sat herself far from the camp, sharpening her blades. Leliana watched her go, having promised Renya she wouldn’t follow her. She hated watching the elf suffering so, and was unnerved by the haunted look behind the usually-bright green eyes.

“She’ll be alright,” Nyviel said, catching the bard staring. “Won’t she?”

“Of course she will,” Alistair interjected, coming up to the two women and watching Renya with worry. “She’ll be fine.”  
They packed up the camp and shouldered their packs. Renya, meanwhile, had pulled another purple potion from her pack and was studying it carefully. She shook her head and dumped it out. It wasn’t helping her anymore, and it tasted horrible, anyway. After finishing packing her things, she shouldered her load uncomplainingly and rejoined the group. She sought out Morrigan, who was packing up her bedroll, and handed her the empty vial. Morrigan took it with a small smile, not completely meeting Renya’s gaze. They all set off again.

Renya set her features, trying to ignore the singing in her head and wondering if she should have drunk the potion after all. It was, however, a relief that the gentle voice was finally gone. Whatever had been causing it was hopefully far behind them, and she only had to contend with the archdemon and the headache now. They hadn’t gone too far before:

“It is a wonder,” Shale commented. “That it keeps going when it seems to want nothing more than to lay down its burdens and…”

“Atisha, Shale,” Renya said darkly.

“I am only…”

“Oh, Alistair,” Wynne said suddenly. “I don’t… feel so well…”

“Wynne!” Alistair cried as the older mage collapsed. He caught her before she hit the ground. “Wynne?”

He laid her gently on the stones and after a few tense moments Wynne opened her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I am… not used to such strain.”

“Are you alright?” Renya asked, kneeling next to her.

“Yes, yes. We have all been going on very little rest, Renya. And I am no spring chicken…”

Renya blinked at her. “No, you are a human,” she said politely, not understanding the phrase Wynne had used.

The mage chuckled. “It means I am old.”

The elf shook her head. Both she and Wynne knew this was the second time the mage had collapsed without reason. Wynne sighed and sat up.

“I promised to tell you, didn’t I?” she said sadly. “You spoke with Petra at the Tower, do you remember? She told you I saved her from a demon.”

Renya nodded. Wynne took a deep breath.

“To defeat the demon, I expended every last bit of my strength. I felt my senses dull and my consciousness leave me. I, for all intents and purposes, died.”

The Warden arched an eyebrow. “Your recovery has been incredible.”

Wynne smiled. “I felt myself – how can I describe this? – held back, like a parent holds back an eager child: gently, but firmly. I believe one of the benevolent spirits in the Fade took a liking to me, and saved me. Soon, I became aware of the cold stones on the ground, and my hip pressed against the floor.”

“What does this mean?” Renya asked with a shake of her head.

“It means I am on borrowed time. This is not the natural way of things. The spirit in me is… weakening. And our current situation has not helped. But,” she said, rising. “I refuse to lie in a bed with covers up to my chin, waiting for my life to end.”

“We will rest another day,” Renya said after a moment’s thought.

“What?” Oghren demanded. “No. We need to find the Anvil and sort out this whole mess! She said she’s fine!”

“I cannot believe I am about to say this,” Morrigan said with a small shake of her head. “But I agree with Oghren. We must press forth. If Wynne says she is able to continue, then we continue.”

“Can we not spare another day to rest? We are all weary,” Leliana offered, glancing at Renya.

“I’d rather press on, if we can,” Alistair said. “But I’ll do whatever you think is best, Renya.”

“It seems most of us are in agreement,” Morrigan said, addressing Renya. “We will continue.”

“Look at Renya,” Leliana countered. “She’s exhausted. Wynne has collapsed from the schedule we have been keeping, and even you look like you have seen better days, Morrigan.”

The witch narrowed her eyes, and Renya became aware of the dark circles beneath them for the first time.

“We have a job to do,” Morrigan said icily. “We are to support the Wardens. There is still much to do before… there is still much to do yet. We must continue,” she said with a little more force.

“The Blight will not end well if our Wardens and their friends die of exhaustion.”

Nyviel looked between Morrigan and Leliana, facing off on either side of Renya. Renya was watching them wearily. The younger elf held her breath; she knew Renya had been favoring Morrigan’s advice recently, but then had pulled a knife on her. On the other hand, she had been quietly pushing Leliana away, but had allowed the bard to stay with her the previous night.

“We have a deadline, of sorts,” Renya said quietly. Nyviel sighed and closed her eyes as Morrigan looked smug. “And if I spoke only for myself I would say to move ahead. However,” she added as Morrigan opened her mouth to say something. “I am responsible for the welfare of others, as well.” She looked at Wynne. “We will rest for another day. I do not know what waits for us at this Anvil, and we cannot afford to be anything less than ready.”

“Renya,” Wynne said gently. “Do not change plans for me. I will be alright.”

“Yes, Warden,” Morrigan agreed. “We can rest once we are no longer in these Deep Roads.”

“We will rest another day,” Renya said with finality ignoring the stabs of pain crashing through her head. Morrigan looked shocked; Nyviel tried to carch Leliana’s eye but failed.

“We should continue,” Morrigan said slowly, staring into Renya’s eyes.

Renya grunted and held her gaze. “I said no. Unpack the camp again.”

“This is outrageous,” Oghren grumbled.

“Are there to be more delays?” Sten asked. “Because –”

Renya turned on him. “You called me weary, implied I was weakened. And I knocked you down and held my knife to your throat, Sten,” she growled at him. “Do you still not trust my judgement?”

Sten bowed his head slightly toward her. “As you say, Kadan.”

At that, Renya removed her pack and they began setting up the tents and bedrolls again. She sat facing the fire wordlessly when they had finished. Wynne sat next to her.  
“I am sorry, Renya,” she said quietly. “You did not need to change your plans for me. I would have managed.”

“It is better this way,” Renya replied. She shrugged. “I remember how I felt in the Circle Tower, how weary I was… And now I am walking through the archdemon’s home…”

“This singing you speak of…”

“I’m sorry, Wynne. Grey Wardens hold their secrets close to their hearts.”

“Of course, Renya.” The mage patted the elf’s knee. “Perhaps a little more rest will bring you the clarity you’ve been searching for.”

“Ma serannas, Wynne.”

“I still believe in you, you know. You _can_ do this.”

“…ma serannas.”

“And,” Wynne said lightly, pretending to brush dirt off of her arms and not see Renya quickly wipe her eyes. “If I fall in battle, and decide that you are not performing your job to my liking, I will get back up again and give you a good finger-wagging.”

Renya laughed, and noticed Leliana look over at the sound with a smile.

“I will hold you to that, Wynne.”

“She’s been worried about you,” Wynne added now, seeing Leliana watch Renya from where she was helping Alistair oil his armor.

“Yes, I will have to apologize.”

“I don’t think she looks for an apology,” the mage replied. “I have watched you for a time, and perhaps I was wrong… There seems to be something special with you.” The mage nodded to herself, still watching Leliana. “I think she feels she’s truly found her place with you, that after all her wanderings, she’s finally home.”

Renya nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

“I think I was too harsh in my judgement before, and I am sorry.”

“It is alright, Wynne. You… you wanted what was best for both of us.”

Wynne smiled and rested her hand on Renya’s shoulder. “What you have may not last forever; death and duty may part you, but love’s worthiness is not diminished because of this. Instead, you learn to cherish every precious moment…”

Renya swallowed hard.

“And,” Wynne continued with a smile. “It does these old bones good to see that something so beautiful can be found in the midst of all this chaos and strife.”

“Ma serannas, Wynne. Thank you,” Renya managed to whisper.

Wynne gave her shoulder a squeeze before rising and walking over to where Nyviel was seated, mending her robes and ignoring Oghren’s lewd comments.

Her spot was almost instantly filled by Morrigan, brandishing a waterskin at Renya.

“I am not thirsty, lethallan.”

“Water is important, Warden,” Morrigan said briskly. “It keeps the mind sharp and the thoughts clear.”

“I am still not thirsty.” Renya glanced at the waterskin. “And that is yours, anyway. I am not going to drink from your water ration.”

Morrigan put the skin away, looking disappointed. “It seems that friends give things that are meaningful,” she said. “This is something I would otherwise use for my own survival.”

Renya smiled. “Ma serannas, lethallan. I appreciate the gesture.”

“Indeed.” Morrigan glanced sideways at Renya. “’Twas foolish to wait another day, Warden. You know this.”

“I do.”

“Then why is this what you have commanded?”

Renya sighed. “We are all tired, Morrigan. Branka is far behind us, and, like I said, we all must be in top condition when we reach this anvil. What if there is a dragon? Who here has the strength to defeat one of them now?”

Morrigan nodded, considering Renya carefully. “Have you been having nightmares, still?”

The elf nodded. “Every night. I…” She trailed off, looking thoughtful. They had gotten worse since she had stopped sleeping well, and then gotten worse again after the physical toll of the gauntlet and the broodmother. The wearier she was, the worse the singing. Her eyes narrowed in thought and she swore to not listen the next time Morrigan suggested they keep walking.

“Yes, Morrigan. Every night. I do not wish to speak of them.”

“But…”

“Atisha, Morrigan. I will not speak of them.”

Morrigan nodded once to show she understood. “But you remember these dreams?”

Renya didn’t say anything, but Morrigan nodded again, a hint of satisfaction crossing her features. The elf’s silence was telling enough for her; perhaps enough had been done. She hoped so, not only for her sake but for the Warden’s. The thought surprised her. She gave herself a little shake. The Warden had a few more potions to drink, and then this all could stop.

“I shall leave you to your rest, then, Warden.” And she left Renya alone again. With a deep breath, Renya heaved herself up off the stone she was on and walked over to where Alistair and Leliana were sitting.

“And, look, there. It needs patching…” Alistair was saying, pointing to the worn material of his tunic covering his elbow.

“Alistair,” Leliana said gently. “Do you mean to tell me you do not know how to mend your own clothes? I can show you this, if you would like.”

“But then it all bunches,” the other Warden replied with the hint of a whine. “And it’s uncomfortable.”

“Wynne told you no, didn’t she?” Leliana replied with a glance at Renya. The elf grinned.

“Well, yes,” Alistair mumbled. “But it still needs mending.”

Leliana rooted in her pack and pulled out a needle, threat, and the tattered remains of one of Renya’s old tunics and handed them to the pouting man.

“Fine, fine,” Alistair replied with a sigh, taking the materials from her. He threaded the needle, his tongue in between his teeth.

“Do you regret leaving Lothering?” he asked, now measuring out a piece of the fabric to cover the bare patches on his tunic. “Do you ever think you should have stayed?”

Leliana sighed. She’d been thinking about that for a long time. “There was much good that could have been done there, but I chose to do good elsewhere. What we are doing is for the greater good…” she replied carefully.

“The greater good? It’s alright if some people die as long as it is for the greater good?”

The bard was silent for a few moments, looking sad. “Many made it to other cities and towns, Alistair. We know many also perished.” She sighed again. “As the Maker wills.”

“And you’re alright with that?” Alistair asked mid-stitch. “All those people dying? Don’t you wish you could have done something?”

“Yes,” Leliana replied sadly. “Yes, very much.” She sighed. “There have been many losses, and many more will come on this journey. You know that. We all will have to steel ourselves for what is coming.”

“Yes, yes I know,” Alistair said, looking glum and returning to his patching. “I just wish… I’m not really good at that part, you know? The steeling myself bit.”

“You do fine,” Leliana said, gently patting his arm. She looked up at Renya with a smile. “Do you need something patched, too, Renya?” she asked with a little humor.

“Oh, sure. Mend her things,” Alistair grumbled, tying a knot and cutting the thread with his teeth.

“No,” Renya replied with a smile. “I just… no.” She sat next to Leliana.

She stood up again. “I think I am going to rest,” she said. Alistair looked at her with concern.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked. Renya shrugged.

“I will be fine, lethallin. The Blight will not end well without Wardens to stop it.”

“Maybe it’s good we’ve stopped,” Alistair replied. “We’ve all been running ragged, haven’t we? For the life of me I can’t figure out why we’ve been pressing ourselves so hard…”

“Perhaps ‘tis because we are trying to secure these dwarves’ help against the Blight?” Morrigan offered, coming over and standing next to Renya, watching her carefully.

“But Renya said that the Dalish will have moved for the winter, anyway,” Alistair said with a frown.

“We should not bother the clans before the thaw,” Renya agreed, wondering at the strange combination of disappointment and relief that passed over Morrigan’s face.

“Did you want something, Morrigan?” Leliana asked, rising and standing next to Renya, matching Morrigan glare for glare.

“I wished to know if the Warden is ready for the mid-day meal. I was preparing to stoke the fire.”

“You’re going to cook?” Alistair asked, his head snapping up from his work of patching the other elbow of his tunic.

“The annoying Antivan elf has promised to leave me be if I cook for the camp,” Morrigan said with a nasty look toward Zevran, who was grinning. “I thought it a fair trade.”

“Yes, fine, Morrigan, ma serannas,” Renya said as Leliana looked like she was about to argue. “I am going to go rest.”

“I shall call you when it is ready,” Morrigan said with a nod before turning and walking away.

“Why do you trust her?” Leliana said now. The elf shook her head. Something strange was going on, but she didn’t believed that Morrigan would do anything to really hurt her, and certainly not intentionally. The enchanted sleep was meant to help Renya rest, wasn’t it? And the potions were helping with her headaches, with no ill effects that she could tell.

“She has earned my trust, like everyone else here.”

“But-”

“And if she betrays the Wardens and the Blight goes unchecked, she dies, too,” Renya added softly. “She would be insane to turn on us.”

“She is insane,” Alistair offered darkly. Renya sighed.

“I am going to lie down,” was all she said.

Leliana watched as Renya pulled her bedroll away from the rest of the tents and rolls set out. The elf paused, surveying the scene, and then dragged the roll a little further away to where she deemed it safe for her to sleep; the bedroll was now in the darkness, behind a little piece of rock that was jutting from the wall.

The elf lay down and moved restlessly. Elgar lay next to her, whimpering and pawing at her. Renya murmured softly to him in Dalish and he stopped, but continued to watch her with the most worried face a dog can have. Eventually Renya sat up and closed her eyes in an attempt to meditate. Her ears twitched and she she looked troubled, but she kept her eyes determinedly closed.

Once Renya was out of sight, Leliana walked over to where Nyviel was sitting grinding herbs in a mortar.

“Nyviel,” she said softly. The younger elf looked up at her. “Do you hear anything?”

Nyviel’s eyebrows knit together slightly at the question. She sat very still for a few moments, and then shook her head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Why?”

Leliana nodded in Renya’s direction, although the elf was blocked by the protruding stone from this angle. “She seems like she’s hearing something that no one else can.”

“Maybe she’s still hearing the singing she talks about,” Nyviel said, following Leliana’s gaze.

“Hm.”

“Poor Renya,” Nyviel murmured, shaking her head and going back to her potion.

“I am surprised you haven’t spoken with her about this yet,” Leliana said lightly. “Usually she is very open to discussing things with you.”

Nyviel exhaled in a short laugh. “No. Nae. I know when I’m not wanted.” She looked over at the rock concealing Renya from view. “And right now I’m not wanted.” From where she was sitting, she reached up and tapped Leliana’s hip to get her attention again.

“She needs to rest,” the elf said meaningfully. “That will do her more good than anything else. She needs her strength to stand up against whatever is going on in her mind.” She sighed when she saw Leliana’s hesitation and nudged her legs a little. “Go sit with her.”

“Nae. No,” Renya said when Leliana quietly walked around the outjutting wall. Her eyes were still closed. “Leave me be, Leliana. I am too tired to fight this. I need to be by myself.”

Leliana quietly sat down next to her. “No, Renya. You need to rest. I will watch over you.”

Renya opened her eyes with exasperation. “And what will you do if I… if I try and hurt someone?” She looked away. “…if I try to hurt you?”

“I’ll stop you.”

Renya let out a short bark of a laugh. “Of course.”

Perhaps Renya would be more amenable to Leliana’s presence if she thought she was doing something for the bard, rather than for herself. Leliana took Renya’s hand, hating herself for what she was about to do.

“Lay down with me, my love,” she said quietly, leaning in and kissing Renya’s cheek, aware of how tense the elf became at her touch. “I’ve been missing your arms around me.”

“It is better if we are apart.”

“It’s so cold here,” Leliana purred, kissing down Renya’s jawline. “I have become used to you being near. Please, we have the time…”

Renya arched an eyebrow and leveled a severe gaze onto Leliana. “Are you really trying to seduce me into allowing you to stay with me?”

Leliana startled and tried to recover, but Renya shook her head.

“We have traveled together for months,” Renya said. “Do you think I cannot tell when you are trying to manipulate someone? I learned this long ago.”

Leliana couldn’t tell if Renya was angry with her or not. In either case, she felt the color rising in her cheeks. “I-I’m so sorry, Renya,” she said, looking away. “I j-just…”

“Just what?” Renya asked gently when Leliana didn’t continue. She didn’t sound angry, and Leliana recognized the opportunity to be honest. She took it.

“I just want you to rest,” she said truthfully, finally meeting Renya’s eyes. They were tired and full of pain, but Leliana forced herself to hold her gaze. “And… and I am so comforted when you are near. I suppose I hoped I could offer the same comfort to you,” she finished in a whisper, finally looking away.

“Mir enansal,” Renya said softly, squeezing Leliana’s hand. “You do not need to be so deceptive with me, Lelia.” She frowned. “Do I make you think that? Do you not think you can talk to me?” She drooped a little. “You are afraid of me, regardless of your words.”

“No!” Leliana shook her head emphatically. “No, Renya. I’m sorry. I just… you stopped to rest for Wynne’s sake, and not your own, and…”

“Atisha, Lelia,” Renya said, raising her hand. “I understand.” She removed her various blades and put them close to the wall, away from her bedroll, and sat down again, looking introspective. “Please stay with me, Lelia.”

She lay down, and Leliana followed her lead. The human rested her head on the elf’s shoulder, suddenly noticing that Renya had changed into her green Dalish armor at some point while she and Nyviel had been talking. The elf’s heartbeat was rapid, and Leliana wrapped her arm around Renya’s middle. Renya hesitatingly pulled Leliana into a hug and held her. Leliana smiled when she felt Renya bury her nose in her hair and breathe deeply.

“Mir enansal,” Renya murmured into the red hair.

“What does that mean?” Leliana asked.

Renya hesitated. “My blessing.”

Leliana smiled. “Really?”

“Yes.” Another pause. “All this darkness…” Renya took a deep breath. “You are the best thing that could have ever happened to me.”

“Really?” Leliana said again, her smile widening even as she heard Renya’s heartbeat hammering much faster than before. “You really think so? That’s so sweet.”

A few long silent minutes passed, and Leliana let herself be comforted by Renya’s arms and her familiar scent of fresh air and pine, even more welcome now as they were surrounded by the cold, hard stone of the Deep Roads. Leliana listened as Renya’s heartbeat began to slow to a more normal speed and her breathing evened.

“Shall I tell you the story of Alindra and her soldier-love again, my dearest one?”

Renya didn’t respond, and Leliana slowly moved her head to look up into the elf’s face. Renya was sleeping peacefully, her face finally free of the troubled look it had been carrying without break for the longest time. Leliana smiled and held her quietly, listening to her breathe until Morrigan finally called them to the mid-day meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm...
> 
>  
> 
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	106. Violated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning* For some mild sexual almost-violence. We go down a bit of a dangerous road, although it's not incredibly graphic. Better safe than sorry with these warnings, though, right?

“So the sister is a follower of the Maker?”

Leliana looked up at Shale over the fire as Zevran cleaned up the evening meal. “Am I the sister?” she asked with a smile. “That’s so cute. It’s like you’re my big… brother, or sister, or whatever.”

“The sister is mistaken,” Shale continued. “I am made of stone. We are not related.”

“No, no,” Leliana replied. “Don’t you believe in people being related in spirit? Like, a spiritual sister?”

“Humans believe many strange things,” the golem observed. “Especially when it comes to things unseen.”

Nyviel caught Renya’s eye and smiled when she realized they wore matching indulgent looks.

“That is what is having faith is about, Shale. Don’t you think so?”

“I would say that is what being gullible is about,” Shale deadpanned.

“So… I’m gullible now?” Leliana asked flatly.

“Yes,” Morrigan offered. Leliana glared at her.

“I, er, take it we are no longer sisters in spirit?” Shale asked, tilting her head as she surveyed the bard.

“It’s been so nice, taking an extra day to mend our things and rest,” Nyviel said now, effectively changing the subject. She turned to Renya as Alistair again enlisted Leliana’s help for his armor. “Can you tell me about the Dalish again? I’m so excited to meet them.”

Renya smiled. “What would you like to know, lethallan? There are many things to tell.”

“Tell me about what you did when you lived with your clan,” Nyviel said without thinking. She noticed the dark look that passed over Renya’s face, and was about to apologize when Renya placed her hand on the younger elf’s arm.

“It was a much simpler life,” she began softly. “It was wonderful.”

Leliana, meanwhile, was watching them across the fire. She was sitting next to Alistair, and had been listening to Zevran irritate Wynne with questions regarding “crying into her bosom” with amusement. Morrigan had been staring at her for the longest time, but she was pointedly ignoring the witch.

“I’m glad for the rest,” Alistair said, getting Leliana’s attention. “But I’ll be thankful to move on tomorrow. I’m itching to get back above ground. Or at least,” he added with a smile, “more above-ground than we are now.”

“I agree with you, Alistair,” Leliana replied with a smile. She was thinking back to the nice bed at Tapster’s Tavern. It had been the only time she and Renya had really been able to be by themselves, and… Leliana forced herself to not think those thoughts right now. There would be time after this. Maker willing, there would be time. She silently prayed that was what the Maker willed. Nyviel walked over.

“Where’s Renya?” Leliana asked. Nyviel pointed to the stone wall they had seen earlier in the day.

“She wanted to go to bed,” she said simply. Alistair and Leliana both sighed.

“She should rest,” Morrigan said suddenly. Alistair eyed her warily.

“Now you’re for us resting?” he said incredulously. “Before you wanted us to keep going and going…”

“The Warden has seemed better for resting. You are still surprised I care for her well-being?” Morrigan replied, eyes flashing.

“Of course I’m surprised to think you’d care about her,” Alistair said flatly. “She’s not you.”

“I am capable of human feelings, Alistair,” the witch replied testily. “Just because I do not wear them on my sleeve as you do, does not mean I do not possess them.”

Leliana glanced at Nyviel. “Goodnight,” she said softly before rising and walking over to the rock wall and peeking around it. She smiled and stepped deftly around the corner when she saw the shadow of Renya sitting on the ground, staring at the book she had referred to as her journal, pencil in hand. The bard’s smile widened. Renya’s tongue was between her teeth and her eyes were squinted as she carefully made a mark on the page. Leliana made a mental note to show Renya how to properly hold a pencil – she didn’t need to use so many fingers. Or such a death-grip.

“Dear Journal,” Leliana said, making Renya look up. “Leliana has arrived and wants to go to bed, so I must fill in the details of my exciting journey another day. Signed, Renya.”

Renya chuckled and closed the book before tucking it safely into her pack. “How did you know that is what it said?” she commented. Leliana sat down next to her.

“I am just that good,” she said with a wink she wasn’t sure Renya could see. “How can you write? It’s so dark here.” Green glints blinked at her. “Of course,” Leliana continued with a smile. “Elvhen eyes.”

“I put my swords over there again,” Renya said, pointing. “You will be safe.”

“I know,” Leliana replied, scooting closer to the elf. “I’m with you.”

“Which is also the reason you are not safe.”

“I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I do.”

“You-” She was cut off with a kiss. Startled, but only for a moment, Renya leaned in and wrapped her arms around Leliana, burying her fingers in the bard’s hair. Leliana chuckled and pressed herself as close as she could to the elf, pushing harder than was probably polite, but she had been thinking about the bed in Tapster’s, and being alone with Renya, and…

Soon she was lying on top of the elf, straddling her hips. They came apart and Renya looked up at her. In the low light, Leliana couldn’t clearly tell the expression Renya had, but she smiled as Renya stroked her cheek.

“We can’t…” Renya breathed. Leliana kissed her.

“I will be quiet. No one will know.”

“This is a bad idea, Lelia. No, stop,” Renya protested as Leliana dragged her fingers over the pointed ears, and they twitched a little. The fingers disappeared, but the twitching continued, as if hearing something only the elf could hear.

“Do you really want me to stop?”

Renya hesitated, listening to the singing.

Leliana frowned. “If you say anything about me being safe, I will assume you mean to say, ‘No, Leliana, I want you to continue. I want to lay with you and… and m-make love to you, here in this cavern.’ Do you understand me?”

Renya sighed. “I _do_ want you to be safe,” she said softly.

Leliana grinned. “I’ll show you safe…” she purred, leaning in again.

***

Leliana pressed her mouth into Renya’s shoulder, trying to keep her breathing quiet. As Renya moved against her, her leg in between Leliana’s, the bard found it harder and harder to keep her promise of silence. And Renya’s tender, gentle movements were driving her mad.

“Harder,” Leliana whispered. “Renya… oh… harder….”

“No, Lelia,” Renya murmured back, squeezing her eyes shut as the singing swelled in her head. “No, I will not…”

“It’s alright, my love. Please… I want you… I want this… please…” She dragged her nails across Renya’s ears, and kissed the top of Renya’s shoulder, biting it lightly. Renya stifled a groan.

“You like this, no?” Leliana said quietly into Renya’s neck. “You like when I am a little rough with you.”

Renya responded by raking her fingers across Leliana’s scalp. The bard bit down on her lip and dug her fingers into Renya’s back; Renya repeated her movement, dragging her nails through Leliana’s hair and down her neck.

“Does that answer your question?” Renya replied. Leliana nodded. The bard’s eyes were closed contentedly.

“Yes,” she murmured. She pulled the elf closer, guiding her movements and rotating her hips to match Renya’s careful ministrations. “…faster, my love… Harder.”

“Lelia…”

“Please…”

Renya closed her eyes tightly again, her lips close to Leliana’s ear. The singing was still there, and getting louder. The horrible notes drifted by so sweetly, singing to Renya how to move, how to act. How easy it would be to hurt Leliana under the guise of giving her what she wanted.

_She will never see it coming. Press her, hurt her. Bring her up, betray her. You want to see her bleed…_

Leliana, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware of the treacherous thoughts in Renya’s head as she concentrated on keeping her breathing quiet. Renya seemed to be finally listening to her urging, and Leliana swallowed a moan as Renya’s hand found its way to her core. Fingers scraped along the delicate skin before plunging roughly inside her, and Leliana bit down on Renya’s shoulder again to stifle her gasp. She clenched her eyes shut as she responded to this new type of lovemaking.

It was exciting, it felt good, and Leliana loved the woman she clutched to herself, but she wished that Renya would speak to her. This was not the first time Leliana had been taken roughly, but she had always withheld a part of herself, as if a piece of her was locked away where no one else could find it, protected. Now was the first time she had ever fully offered herself like this to another person, and it was both fightening and exciting to her. Teeth scraped along her throat, and Leliana bit her lip as the elf nipped at her breasts, occasionally catching one of her nipples in the attack.

Renya began to move with more aggression, surprising Leliana and pleasing her at first, but after a while, things took an unexpected turn.

“Renya… Renya, my love… oh… please…” she began. “It’s… it’s too much, please…”

But the elf didn’t seem to hear her. Indeed, Renya’s mind was filled with the terrible singing, urging her to move faster, harder.

_Yes, like that, Renya. You know what comes next…_

Renya closed her eyes; a small voice in her mind was telling her what she was doing was wrong, that she should stop… But something else was driving her know. A hoarse, tinny voice that told her how to hurt, how to kill…

Leliana tapped Renya on the back of her shoulder while still gripping her hips with one of her legs. The tapping became urgent.

“Renya… Renya… no… please, it’s…too much… Please… No…” Leliana’s eyes widened when she saw Renya’s face. She looked ferocious; her teeth were bared and her eyes flashed as she stared through Leliana. A low growl - almost a snarl - escaped her.

“Renya… _stop!_ ”

All at once, everything stopped. Renya gasped, and pulled away from Leliana, removing her hands as quickly as possible. She wore the same startled and confused look as when she had attacked Sten.

“Ir abelas, Lelia. I am so sorry, ma vhenan,” Renya said, looking at Leliana in horror. “I do not know what came over me.” She started to get up. “You must return to the camp at once…” Gentle arms pulled her back down.

“Stay with me, my love,” Leliana breathed into her ear. Her heart was racing, and she was equally afraid of staying with Renya and of leaving her. She took a deep breath. “Don’t leave me like this. I… I need you to stay here with me, please.” The bard kissed the spot underneath Renya’s ear gently. “I hate to ask, but… but…”

“I hurt you.”

“You did no such thing, my love,” Leliana murmured, the lie coming easily as she rubbed her hands over Renya’s back soothingly. “You did what I asked. I did not know what to expect.”

Renya stayed silent, remembering the traitorous thoughts in her mind. “That is not me…” she murmured. Leliana kissed her again.

“I know, love. Please, stay…”

“I do not want you hurt.”

“I know.”

“I could hurt you.”

“…I know.”

Renya paused, not having expected that answer. “And yet you want me to stay with you still?”

_No._

“Yes.” Leliana kissed her gently.

A long silence followed this. “I do not want to hurt you, Lelia.” Renya’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“I know, my love.”

Renya began to relax on top of Leliana, and then pulled away again. “No,” she said. She pulled the bard’s armor over and began sifting through the pile for Leliana’s smallclothes. “I cannot… you cannot stay here. Not after I almost…” she trailed off and shook her head, appearing to change her mind.

Leliana watched, undecided, as Renya took one of the blankets and walked a little distance away and lay down on the cold stone. By the time she made her decision and walked over to her, wrapping another blanket around herself, the elf had fallen asleep. She sighed and sat down next to her.

“Renya…” she said softly.

***

_Renya opened her eyes. She was sitting on the ground in the middle of a glittering city high atop a mountain. In front of her knelt an elf, his dark, fathomless eyes studying her thoughtfully. His forehead was clear of markings._

_“You are she,” he said. Renya stayed silent, but didn’t pull away as he leaned in closer to her. “Yes, I see it. The marks you have reclaimed.”_

_“Andaran atish’an, Elvhen,” Renya said politely, fighting to maintain the other elf’s gaze. “I am Renya Mahariel of the Sabrae clan.”_

_“Yes, you once were of them. But you are not now. Not any longer.”_

_Renya swallowed. The elf’s voice was layered, sounding low, assured, and close as a caress while also sounding high and distant as if lost in a cavern._

_“I… yes, you are right. I am now a Grey Warden.”_

_“You have lost yourself here,” the elf said knowingly. “I see it. Your thoughts have become shared. You know of what I speak.” Renya clenched her jaw uncomfortably._

_“Who are you?” she demanded, finally pulling away. The other elf blinked._

_“You ask for my name?”_

_Renya’s eyes narrowed. “Are you a demon? Have I traveled to the Beyond in my dreams?” She remembered Nyviel saying that demons could tempt people when they slept if they were not wary, but couldn’t remember if that only applied to mages or not._

_“The Beyond… I remember this term, yes,” the elf said slowly. “I am no demon. But,” he added, holding up a hand as Renya looked like she was going to interrupt. “I come to warn you against fear and deceit.”_

_“Fear and deceit?” Renya repeated slowly. Her eyes went wide and she scrambled onto her knees, her forehead touching the ground. “You are Dirthamen, Falon’din’s shadow.”_

_“No,” the other elf said easily, putting a hand on her shoulder and guiding her so she was kneeling again. “I am Dirthamen, and yet I am not. Dirthamen and Falon’din are locked away in Arlathan; locked away because of pride and trickery. The gods cannot intervene, as much as we may desire to.”_

_Renya blinked, her mind reeling. Pride and trickery? Arlathan? This were not the way she had heard the stories. But Dirthamen spoke again._

_“Fear and deceit. You know these, more than you did before.” He looked at her sadly. “You know the way to trick them. Your vallaslin is a testament to that. And yet you do not. You let them eat away at you.”_

_“It is the archdemon. You don’t know…”_

_“What don’t I know?” the elf interrupted, a challenging look on his face. Renya stopped and looked away. “You, however, know the answer.”_

_“What is the answer?”_

_Renya…” floated a voice from behind her. She turned around but no one was there. When she turned back, Dirthamen had gone. She looked around in disappointment. She was alone._

_“What is the answer?” she called desperately. “How do I fight his call?”_

_“Renya…” The voice was a little more insistent._

_“Dirthamen!” Renya called, rising to her feet. “Uncloud my eyes! Ghilan’nain, show me the path!” She rubbed her vallaslin. “Anyone…” she murmured. “…help me.”_

***

Leliana grabbed Renya’s shoulder.

“Renya,” she said with a little more insistence. She felt uneasy after what had just happened, but seeing Renya thrash in her sleep kept her from retreating back to her bedroll alone.

“…ma halani…” the elf murmured, still sleeping.

“Renya… wake up…”

Renya startled awake, saw Leliana crouching over her, and pulled away like a frightened animal.

“No, no. Stay away from me, Leliana.”

Leliana shook her head. “Come,” she commanded quietly. “Even if you do not wish to lay next to me, you should sleep on the bedroll.”

“I…”

“Renya.”

Renya sighed and stood up, obediently following the bard back to the bedroll and lying down. Leliana sat next to her and grabbed her arm when the elf made a movement as if to pull away.

“Stay, Renya.” Her heart was hammering as she lay down next to her. She wanted to leave, to get up and return to her own bedroll. This elf that she loved more than she had ever loved anyone had been so... so _frightening._ A little shudder went through her when she remembered how Renya’s eyes had flashed and how terrifying she had sounded when a snarl escaped her. She had only ever been like that when darkspawn were near…

Leliana sighed. Only when darkspawn were near… _What is happening in Renya’s mind?_ she wondered.

“I hurt you.” The elf wasn’t looking at her.

“You didn’t,” the bard replied softly, wrapping her arms around Renya. The elf nodded. “I was just… startled.” _Frightened…_

“It was the singing,” Renya said desperately. Leliana’s heart fluttered a little. “It is worse when I am close to people I care about… It tells me things… Monstrous things…”

Taking a deep breath, Leliana placed a finger over the elf’s lips. She loved Renya; she would try and help her.

“Then listen to my voice,” she said softly. “Listen to my voice tell you that no matter what happens down here, I will stay by your side…”

“Lelia…”

“Listen to me tell you,” Leliana continued. “How, even when you are weary, or angry, or frightened, I would rather be with you than anywhere else…” She pulled Renya a little closer and closed her eyes for a moment as Renya’s warm body pressed against her colder one.

“Listen when I tell you that you are dearer to me than anyone I have ever known. You… you are the only person that I trust completely…”

“Leliana…”

“The way you hold me,” the bard cut her off. “Makes me feel loved and accepted. I know I will always be safe with you, no matter what.” She kissed the elf. “I still have faith in you. I still trust you,” she murmured, kissing her again. “I still know you will guide us through this darkness.”

“I…”

Leliana took one of Renya’s hands and placed it on her cheek. She leaned into its warmth. “I love your skin on mine,” she said softly. Her heart was hammering in her chest in apprehension. What Renya had done had frightened her; she had lied telling Renya it hadn’t. But the moment had passed, Renya had instantly stopped when Leliana had told her to, and the elf looked so broken afterwards… Even so, Leliana could feel part of her retreating from Renya instinctively, and already the guilt was weighing heavily on her heart. She hated these feelings, and was doing all she could to stop them from happening. Renya brushed her cheek softly.

“You like when I am gentle with you,” Renya offered tentatively. Leliana nodded. “…but my hands are rough…”

“And yet I don’t even notice,” Leliana breathed, taking Renya’s hand and kissing the middle of her palm. Renya leaned down to kiss Leliana’s cheek, and the bard moved a little as Renya’s leg pressed against her firmly. A little hum escaped her. Maker, what was wrong with her?

Renya pressed into her again, pulling a little sigh from the human. “Do you want me to stop?” she asked.

Leliana paused, then shook her head, feeling a little better after the request for permission. “No.”

Renya watched her with a serious expression. “I will not do anything to hurt you, Lelia. I promise.” She stared into the blue eyes looking up at her with apprehension. “I promise you.”

The human swallowed, then nodded. “I… I believe you.”

The elf nodded, even though she didn’t believe Leliana’s words. They moved together slowly for a while, Renya carefully dragging her hands down Leliana’s body. The singing had increased again, but a little growl escaped Renya – causing Leliana to look at her nervously – and she forced herself to attend instead to the soft hair under her fingers and the smooth skin her hand glided over. The bard began stroking Renya’s ears and leaned up to kiss her in response.

Before she could register what was happening, arms wrapped around her and she was flipped over on top of Renya. The elf’s eyes were closed and her jaw was clenched, but when she opened her eyes she smiled kindly at the bard.

“I like when you rub my ears like that,” she said conversationally. “It is very nice.”

Her old, businesslike tone was so familiar and so out-of-place here and now that Leliana stared at her in shock for a moment before starting to giggle.

“Well then, I shall have to continue,” she commented playfully, arching an eyebrow at the elf underneath her. Renya shrugged and nodded.

“I would like that.” She rested her hands on Leliana’s shoulders. “Very much.”

Leliana leaned in, kissing Renya and taking advantage of her position. How good it felt to have Renya’s fingers drag down her back, cupping around her rear and moving back up again. How nice it was to take her time exploring the elf, wishing she could see her pale fingers better as they danced across the tan skin. How pleasantly unexpected to pin Renya’s arms above her head, pulling a groan from the elf as she leaned in and dragged her lips along the pointed ears. How easily, and how instinctively, Renya was able to restore Leliana’s trust. The thought frightened the bard a little, but she reminded herself that she would trust Renya. She had to. She wanted to.

Leliana pulled back and saw Renya’s eyes shut tightly. Her ears twitched as if hearing a distant sound.

“Is everything alright, my love?”

Renya didn’t respond immediately, but she forced her eyes open and nodded.

“I am yours,” she said with a smile. Leliana returned it. “Tell me,” the elf added.

“That you’re mine?”

“Tell me again.” Renya’s eyes were shut tightly again. Her ears gave another twitch. Leliana wondered how bad the singing was right now, but the elf seemed to be fighting it.

“You’re mine, Renya,” she purred close to her ear. “You are mine, and you will not forget that.”

“Again.”

Leliana raised her eyebrows. Maker, she hoped this was helping. Renya was looking more troubled by the moment.

“You are mine, my love,” she repeated. “Only mine.” Leliana was suddenly aware of her hands still pinning Renya’s. She started to release her, but the elf grabbed her hands tightly and held them where they were, above her head. Her breathing was starting to be labored.

Renya took a deep breath, eyes still closed. “Will anything change that?”

Leliana shook her head. “No, my dearest one. Nothing.”

The pointed ears twitched again, and Renya squinted her already-shut eyes a few times. “Tell me… tell me anything, Lelia.”

Leliana blinked; for the first time in her memory, she had no idea what to say. “We are together,” she said soothingly, saying the first thing that came to mind. “And… and we will be together. I will not leave your side.” She frowned, thinking. “And you will fight the Blight, and defeat it,” she added, hoping that would help if Renya was indeed trying to overcome the singing in her mind. “I have faith in you. We all have faith in you. None of us waver in our belief.”

A few tears leaked out of Renya’s eyes. “I love you, Leliana,” she murmured. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Renya.”

Leliana winced. Renya’s fingers were digging into the backs of her hands, and it was beginning to hurt a little. Suddenly, Renya released her and opened her eyes. They looked more peaceful than they had in a long time. She stroked Leliana’s short hair, attempting to defy gravity by tucking a piece of it behind Leliana’s ear.

“Mir enansal,” she said softly, staring into Leliana’s eyes. “Can you forgive me?”

Leliana’s mind was reeling. As a lay sister, she had offered forgiveness and reassurances to many for their petty sins, but in all her years no one had ever asked for her forgiveness.

“You cannot,” Renya said after a few long and silent seconds had passed. “And you should not,” she added with resignation, looking away.

“My dearest one,” Leliana murmured, cupping Renya’s chin and tilting it up. Her heart broke at the look in the elf’s eyes. “Of course I forgive you.” She managed a smile. “You must forgive me, as well. I have never been involved with a Grey Warden before; I am still learning.”

“Still learning?”

“Yes,” Leliana said. She swooped down and kissed Renya gently. “I’ve learned to not ask for anything rough from a Grey Warden when in the Deep Roads.”

Unbidden, a little chuckle escaped Renya. “I will do anything you ask,” she said. “Once we are above-ground again.”

“I will hold you to that, my love.”

“Do.” Renya started to get up. “Stay here,” she said softly. “I will be right back.”

Leliana listened to Renya rummage in her pack a little before padding away. She came back a few minutes later.

“Sit up, Lelia. Raise your arms,” she said gently. Leliana arched an eyebrow. Renya held something up, but the human couldn’t make it out in the dark.

“What is it?”

“The clothes you wear for sleeping. This is your tunic, and…”

Leliana rose, reminding herself that it was very dark, she was behind a stone wall, and the only one who could see her was Renya. She reached out to take the tunic, but Renya pulled away.

“Let me. Please?”

Leliana hesitated, more out of surprise than anything else. She had never been dressed by anyone before, and she tried to push from her mind that it was a Dalish hunter – a Grey Warden – gently pulling the fabric over her head and straightening it so it fell comfortably above her knees, as she had once observed a servant elf do with a high-born visitor of Lady Cecile’s. A kiss was gently placed on her shoulder.

“So beautiful,” Renya murmured, wrapping her arms around the human. Leliana covered Renya’s hands with her own, leaning back into the elf and closing her eyes. A low grumble caught both of their attention. Renya turned her head, listening, and held Leliana a little more protectively. After a moment she relaxed.

“Sten is snoring,” she muttered with a chuckle. She released Leliana.

“And… here,” she said awkwardly, handing a pair of leggings to Leliana. The human ignored them and lay back down.

“This is enough,” she said, pulling the covers over herself.

“You… do not want to get cold.”

“There is a blanket. And you… will be here, no?”

“What? Oh, I… yes…”

Leliana smiled at how flustered she could still make the elf. Renya cleared her throat and lay down under the blankets, and Leliana put her head on Renya’s shoulder and tangled their legs together, aware of the thin material separating their skin. She smiled as warm arms wrapped around her and a kiss was buried in her hair.

“Although I have forgiven you,” Leliana said a few minutes later. “Once we return to the surface, we will need to discuss your punishment.”

“Punishment?” Renya asked with a hint of worry.

Leliana smiled indulgently. Apparently that wasn’t a term the Dalish used for this type of situation.

“Yes… your… punishment,” she affirmed, rubbing herself against Renya a little for emphasis.

“Oh, you mean…” Renya frowned. “That does not seem like a punishment.”

Leliana chuckled and kissed Renya’s cheek. “It’s not a punishment, my love. I’ll explain it to you later.”

“Ma nuvenin. Melava somniar, Lelia. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...are we there yet? My nerves can't take much more of this.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	107. The Beast

_Leliana stood on top of a great mountain, looking in the valley below. The darkness was eating up the land before her, but she stood vigilant, waiting._

_“It will not stop of its own accord,” said a voice behind her. She turned to see Renya looking out into the ravine sadly._

_“No, my love. But that’s why we are here. We will stop it together, no?”_

_But Renya shook her head sadly._

_“It is calling to me. I hear its voice.” The elf stepped closer to the edge._

_“No, my love, come back to me. We can face it together,” Leliana insisted, offering her hand to the Warden, now looking far below them off the cliff._

_“Only I live in this darkness, Lelia,” Renya said kindly, turning and offering her a small smile. “I live in this darkness alone. You belong in the light.”_

_Leliana lunged as Renya fell off the edge. Or maybe she jumped. It was hard to tell. Either way, Leliana was too slow and Renya slipped from her grasp, plunging into the shadows alone without so much as a dying cry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
>  
> 
> I regret not naming the Joining chapter "First Day They Come"...
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us and access extra video-game related thoughts 


	108. Trusting

Leliana woke with a start, still lying next to Renya. Renya opened her eyes and looked at her.

“What is is, Lelia?”

“Nothing,” Leliana panted. “Just a bad dream.”

Renya kissed her forehead. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Leliana sighed, moving so her ear was above Renya’s heart and slipping her arm firmly around Renya’s waist. She listened to the strong beat, letting its rhythm soothe her. Renya’s arms wrapped around her more tightly.

“… You… you died. You died because of the Blight,” Leliana replied in a whisper. It was the simplest way to describe her dream. “I… I was left alone. You told me I deserved the light, but you could only live in the shadow.”

She felt Renya kiss her hair. “Well, that is true,” Renya offered sadly. Leliana looked up at her angrily.

“Don’t say that!” she hissed. “You are not in this alone! You… we need you. _I_ need you…”

“I will not leave you alone, Lelia,” Renya cut in, leaning down to kiss her. “Tainted or not, shadows or no,” the elf continued in a whisper, giving Leliana a squeeze. “I will protect you, Lelia. I promised you.” Another kiss.

“I know, my love… I know.” She snuggled into the Warden a little more, letting herself be soothed by the calloused hands gently tracing lines up and down her back. “It is not your protection that worries me.”

“You have my love, Lelia,” Renya said with a small smile. “All of it.”

Leliana smiled, leaning forward to kiss the elf. She pressed herself into the kiss without thinking, not noticing the soft hum that escaped her. It wasn’t until she heard Renya’s throaty chuckle that she noticed the small movements her hips were making. Maker, was she mad?

“Is this what you want?” Renya whispered into her lips. Leliana thought for a moment before nodding. The elf noticed the hesitation. She gently unlooped one of Leliana’s arms and brought her fingers to the bards stomach, making sure Leliana’s hand was on top of hers.

“Show me,” she murmured. But Leliana pulled her hand away, wrapping it around Renya’s neck and burying her fingers in the elf’s hair before pulling her into a deep kiss.

“I trust you.”

***

Nyviel quietly walked around the camp, glad her watch was almost over. It wouldn’t be fair for Alistair and Renya to have to watch all night, each night, but she wondered if having a Warden on watch wouldn’t be better, since they were in the Deep Roads. She shrugged and supposed it didn’t matter. They both were sensing darkspawn all the time, but even Renya with her lateset trouble with the singing she complained about was able to tell the difference between darkspawn in the immediate area and darkspawn somewhere in the Deep Roads.

_“We are safe here,” the Warden had assured them over the evening meal. Alistair had nodded his head._

_“As safe as we are anywhere, I suppose,” he added with a smile._

The elf hesitated as she came to the stone jutting out from the cavern’s wall. It was technically far beyond the camp but was also concealing where Renya and Leliana were sleeping. She supposed she could leave them be; Renya was a Grey Warden, after all, and Leliana was as deadly as she was beautiful. But Renya had been acting so erratically lately. She shook her head.

“And what are you going to do, da’felas?” she asked herself, using another Dalish term she had picked up from Renya. “Renya wouldn’t hurt Leliana, and even if she did, what would you do? Would you harm Renya? Pull Leliana away? Get Alistair?”

But maybe she should check. What if they had been dragged off by darkspawn? That was ridiculous, and Nyviel knew it. Alistair would have sensed the darkspawn and awoken. Nyviel sighed. She was concerned about Renya. There was no reason to try explaining away why she wanted to look in on the other elf. Regardless of what she told Leliana, she was concerned and wanted to know the older elf would be alright. Maybe just a quick peek…

Elgar raised his head and growled at her as she approached the stone wall.

“Atisha, Elgar,” Nyviel murmured. “I just want to make sure they’re okay.”

The mabari continued growling at the elf. Nyviel paused and showed her empty hands. “I’m not going to hurt them…”

The growling got louder.

“…Elgar… mana…” came Renya’s whispered command. She sounded like she was still mostly asleep.

Elgar humphed and put his head back down. Nyviel hesitated, then quickly poked her head around the corner of the stone. She pulled back immediately, noticing the dog’s eyes on her.

“They seem fine,” she murmured, feeling embarrassed. Leliana and Renya had occasionally slept side-by-side when they camped, Leliana sometimes electing to sleep next to the Warden instead of inside the tent with Nyviel, and sometimes Leliana would rest her head on Renya’s shoulder as the elf wrapped an arm around her, but they were usually very respectful of the others. Nyviel had never seen them so entwined before; Leliana was lying mostly on top of Renya, ear pressed to her chest, and Renya had her nose buried in the red hair, arms wrapped securely around the bard.

Elgar huffed at her.

“Alright, I’m sorry. Okay?” she whispered. “I should have listened to you.”

The dog grumbled at her before curling up again. Nyviel turned and walked back to the camp, wondering how she wanted to wake up Oghren for his watch. She smiled as she thought of the dwarf approaching the stone wall; she was sure Elgar would do more than growl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapters are coming again, I promise.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us and access extra video-game related thoughts.


	109. Adraast A’nall Ansha

“Are we actually doing something productive today?” Oghren grumbled at Renya when she came over to the first the next morning. He was the only one out of the tents, with the exception of Zevran, who was cooking. Renya adjusted her belt and surveyed him coolly.

“We will be traveling again, if that is what you mean.”

“Yeah, none of this sissy resting and waiting and whatever Stone-forsaken madness you want…” he said, turning back to his meal. “You’d think you’d be more interested in finding this Anvil if you want help for your Blight so badly.”

“Are you worried about Branka, Oghren?”

“No,” the dwarf said emphatically. “Are you kidding? That girl can take care of herself, no problem. I’m not worried,” he added with a little grumble. “I just hate sitting around.”

“You and me both, but there are many people here we need to think about.”

“That old lady, you mean?” Oghren said, raising his eyebrows. “She said she’d be alright.”

“She also compared herself to a bird. Humans say many things they do not mean.”

Oghren frowned. “What?”

“We are leaving as soon as we pack up the camp, if that interests you,” Renya added.

“Well good. I was beginning to think we lost our fearless leader.”

Renya clenched her jaw. “Right.”

“And another thing…” The dwarf trailed off and his eyes seemed to unfocus as he looked past Renya. Renya turned and saw Leliana quietly walking through the camp in her tunic. The material covered down to around her mid-thigh, showing off a good deal of her legs. She slowly walked over toward Renya, who was watching her movements with raised eyebrows. The elf seemed to suddenly realize her mouth was open, and closed it slowly. Leliana smiled.

“By… I have… she’s… it’s… Stone…” Oghren burbled.

The bard walked behind Renya and wrapped her arms around the elf. She kissed Renya on the cheek, lingering a moment, and then lightly on the lips when Renya turned her head. They both smiled when they heard a thunk of armor announcing that Oghren had passed out onto the stone.

“Good morning, vhenan,” Renya said, turning to face her fully. She glanced Leliana up and down before catching her gaze.

“I needed to get my things,” Leliana said to Renya’s unasked question.

“Your armor is by my bedroll…”

“Is it?” Leliana asked lightly. “Oh, that’s right. I must have forgotten.” She kissed Renya again before turning and swishing away. Renya watched the movement of her hips, mesmerized, until she was concealed by the stone wall again, then shook her head.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Zevran asked from the fire.

“Yes. She definitely is,” Renya said as she began to fill a plate for both Leliana and herself.

Leliana came back a few minutes later in her armor and sat delicately next to Renya, ignoring Zevran’s winks and laughing at Renya’s enthusiastic eating.

“Your appetite has returned, I see.”

Renya looked at her, cheeks bulging a little, and nodded.

“The Warden needs her strength,” Morrigan opined as she sat walked over to the fire and helped herself to the breakfast that Zevran had made. Leliana arched an eyebrow at the witch, but Renya ignored her.

“I do not know what this is,” Renya said after she swallowed. “But I am glad for it.”

“I’m not sure what this is either, my lovely Warden,” Zevran said. “But it is as close to a sturdy porridge that I could make under the current conditions.”

“No… no robes?” Oghren asked blearily as he sat up. “What… I…”

“Breakfast?” Zevran offered innocently, offering the dwarf back his half-full bowl.

“I… yeah. It’s… you’re…” He stared at Leliana very hard. “Any chance that could happen again when I’m a little more ready for it?”

“No,” Leliana said matter-of-factly, spooning more porridge into Renya’s bowl.

They were packed and moving within the hour. Wynne walked up to Renya and put her hand on the elf’s arm.

“Thank you for the rest, Renya,” she said softly. “I know how badly you want to be out of these Deep Roads.”

“It is no problem, Wynne,” Renya replied with a nod. “I do not want to lose anyone down here.”

“Least of all yourself, I’m sure,” Wynne said softly before falling back to talk to Nyviel.

Renya’s ears twitched again and she closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath. Leliana noticed and took Renya’s hand gently. The elf opened her eyes and looked at Leliana. Her eyes were haunted, but she smiled and gave Leliana’s hand a little squeeze.

“Ma serannas,” she said softly.

***

“Maker, it’s hot,” Alistair said as they walked down another winding corridor. His face was gleaming with sweat. “Do you think that’s a good thing?”

“Did you hear that?” Leliana said as a low rumble came from the mountain. “Maybe we should go back. If this mountain is going to erupt, I would rather not be here when it did.”

Oghren scoffed. “We must be getting close. The old stories say that the anvil was by a pool of lava. Better for forging, you know.”

Renya was marching at the head of the group, sweat dripping down her face and ears twitching as the singing continued to eat away at her. Morrigan came up beside her. Her black hair was plastered to her head.

“What shall we done once we find this Branka, Warden?” Morrigan said. “Do you think you will be able to convince her to return to Orzammar to sort out this mess the dwarves have made?”

Renya grumbled, brushing hair out of her face. “I will drag her back to the city if I have to.”

Morrigan laughed, and Renya glanced at her with a crooked smile.

“Very good, Warden.”

Soon, they came to a very large cavern lined with stone golems.

“Look at this…” Shale said with wonder. In one of the corners of the room stood a stone plaque. “Can the dwarf read this?”

“Er, let me see,” the dwarf replied, squinting at the large tablet. “By the Stone! It’s a list of names – of the dwarves who volunteered to become golems!” He looked at Renya excitedly. “We should get a copy of this somehow. I’m sure the Shaperate would pay a hefty fee for this.”

“Dwarves? There were many?” Shale murmured to herself.

“How?” Alistair asked.

“I could help you with that,” Nyviel commented. “Do you still have that vellum you found, Zev?”

“I do.” He handed some over. “Are you going to copy the symbols?”

“Yes. Hold it over the list. Like that. Now…” She waved her hand over the vellum and a copy of the names appeared by themselves.

Zevran nodded, impressed, and rolled the vellum back up. “I never cease to be amazed by your abilities, my fair young mage.”

Nyviel smiled. “Thank you.”

“And may I also say…”

But a loud metallic clanking cut off whatever else he was about to say.

“Greetings, visitors. I am called Caridin,” said a large iron golem standing at the other end of the room. “Longer ago than I care to remember I was a Paragon to the dwarves in Orzammar.”

“Caridin, the Paragon smith? Alive?” Shale asked with some incredulity.

The metal golem raised his arms out toward her. “Ah, now there is a voice I recognize. Shayle, from the House of Cadash…”

“You… you know my name?” Shale squinted at the paragon. “Is it you who forged me, then? Is it you who gave me my name?”

“Have you forgotten, then?” Caridin said with disappointment. “It has been so long. But yes. Before you were a golem, you were a dwarf, as was I, and you were the fiercest warrior of your time. And you were the only woman to volunteer to become a golem…”

“ _Woman?_ ” Shale said, taking a small step backwards.

As the golems spoke, Renya, standing in the back of the group, gave herself a little shake. The singing was louder again, this deep in the mountain. Glancing at Alistair proved fruitless; the other Warden didn’t seem to be bothered by the singing any more than usual.

_Come to me… come with us… I can make you strong… powerful… take away your pain…_

Leliana watched as Renya’s eyes closed and she swayed where she stood. Over the talking of the golems and the bubbling of the lava it was hard to hear much else, but Renya appeared to be murmuring to herself. She walked over and her eyebrows shot up when she heard what the elf was whispering.

“Leave them… come to me… hear me… can heal you…”

“Renya?” she murmured. She glanced around, but everyone else seemed more interested in what the golems were saying that what Renya was doing.

The singing in the elf’s mind changed.

_Her blood, so red… thirst for it… keeps you from us…_

“So red… Blood… thirst… Keeps… us…”

“Renya?” Leliana repeated, her voice a little higher as the elf’s face turned ugly.

“No!” the elf rasped, her eyes springing open. She looked at Leliana wildly, but the bard didn’t retreat. Instead, she raised her hands in front of her.

“Renya, it’s…it’s me…”

The elf blinked. “Leliana?” She gripped the other woman’s arm. “Lelia?”

“That’s right,” Leliana said soothingly, covering Renya’s hand. “It’s alright. We’re almost done.”

“Where are we? What has happened?”

Leliana took Renya’s hand in both of her own. “We just got here. What do you remember?”

“Caridin… Shale is a woman…”

“Then you haven’t missed anything,” Leliana said with a reassuring smile. “Come.” And she led Renya back over to where Caridin was standing.

“If you are here for the Anvil,” Caridin said now as Renya walked to the front of the group. “You must remember what I have said. With this power comes the heavy price of dwarves: first the volunteers, then the casteless, and then finally whoever the king deems necessary to dispose of.”

Renya nodded, trying to follow what he was saying. “So what are you telling me to do?”

“Destroy the anvil.”

“No! The Anvil is mine! No one will take it from me!”

Branka ran in to the cavern. “Don’t you dare destroy that anvil, elf!”

“Shale!” Caridin said desperately. “You fought to destroy the anvil alongside me once. Do not allow it to fall into unthinking hands!”

Shale looked at Caridin carefully. “You speak of things I do not remember,” she said slowly. “You said we fought. Did you use our control rods to make us do so?”

“No, I destroyed the control rods. I wanted your lives to be your own again… So much regret I felt… But others may have learned how to make them again. And now all that remains is for them to make as many slaves as they desire!”

Shale glanced between Caridin and the Warden, who was standing stiffly in front of the metal giant.

“You! Stranger! Please! Do not allow the Anvil to enslave any more than it already has!”

Renya rubbed her vallaslin for another moment before dropping her hand. “I have a Blight to fight,” she said stiffly. “To do that, I need support from the durgen’len. The durgen’len need a king. For a king, I need the support of a paragon.” She shook her head. “I am an elf. I know nothing of the politics and history of the durgen’len…”

“Don’t listen to him!” Branka had run up behind Renya. “You, Grey Warden. You want an army for your Blight, don’t you? And you want my support for a new king? Get me the Anvil and I will craft an army like the world has never seen!”

“Branka, are you mad?” Oghren said with a shake of his head. “Are you so blinded by this thing that you can’t see what you’ve lost to get it?”

“And what of the dwarves you need to use?” Leliana asked, glancing at Renya as the elf started rubbing her vallaslin again.

Branka dismissed her concerns with a wave of her hand. “Any sacrifice is worth the return of the Anvil of the Void. Orzammar will become great again. Look around,” she spat angrily at Oghren. “Is this what our empire deserves? Crumbling walls filled with darkspawn? The Anvil will return us to our former glory!”

“At the expense of slaves!” Leliana argued indignantly.

“Branka, what happened to you?” Oghren sighed.

“Enough!” Renya cried. She took a few heaving breaths. “Caridin, what if the golems were volunteers?”

“That is how it began. It will not continue be used like this. And I am helpless to disobey…”

“A stone army,” Branka said. “Think of how grand it will look, defeating the Blight with an army of the strongest stone behind you…”

“We need all the help we can get, Renya,” Alistair said softly.

Renya’s face twitched and her headache worsened. “Is it worth the destruction of a people so we get an army? Grey Wardens protect the people, not enslave them, ” Renya growled. Alistair sighed.

“Yes. But we _will_ be protecting the people. With practically indestructible golems.”

Renya couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You will be protecting humans at the expense of the dwarves,” she said angrily. “The Anvil is too dangerous. It must be destroyed.”

“What?” Alistair cried.

“It fights with Caridin?” Shale asked. “Good. Yes, that seems… right.”

“I agree with the Warden,” Morrigan commented, glaring at Alistair. He looked at her in shock.

“You do?”

“No!” bellowed Branka, surging forward. “You will not take it! Not while I live!”

“Branka!” Oghren said, grabbing her and holding her back. “Don’t throw your life away for this! Warden!” he cried desperately. “Give her the blasted anvil. She’s confused! Maybe once she’s calmed down we’ll… be able to reason with her!”

Branka headbutted him and squirmed away. Oghren groaned and grabbed his bleeding nose. She dashed at Renya, brandishing something.

“No! A control rod!?” Caridin yelled before freezing and falling silent.

The golems surged to life around them and the Wardens’ party pressed together in the center of the room. The golems were fighting amongst themselves; it seemed some of them followed Branka, and others, Caridin. A group of dwarves appeared out of nowhere and joined the charge, as well.

Renya, who had been nursing a headache and listening to the singing as it swelled in her mind, broke away from the rest of the group with a scream. She was vaguely aware of Morrigan crying something that resulted in a warmth filling her body, and of arrows whistling past her as she sliced into one of the golems on her way toward Branka. Her vision swam before her. The color was draining from the cavern, and there were black walls on the edges of her vision. Alistair’s bellow sounded like a distant echo, and then everything went dark.

***

Renya blinked, standing in the middle of a small circle of dead golems and dwarves. A little way from her was Branka, lying gasping on the stones at her feet.

“Curse… you…” she burbled before slumping onto the ground.

Renya became very aware of her companions staring at her apprehensively. She turned, and they all took a step back, eyes wide.

Everyone except Leliana. The bard stepped forward slightly, as if approaching a wild animal. Renya looked down and saw herself covered in blood that wasn’t her own.

“The singing…” Renya murmured helplessly, staring wide-eyed at Leliana.

“Hush,” the bard replied, reaching her hand out toward Renya. “It’s over now.” She took Renya’s blood-covered hand and led her over to the companions with the same amount of concern as if they had been walking through a field of flowers.

“Stupid woman,” Oghren was grumbling to no one in particular. “I always knew the Anvil would kill her.”

“And you, friend,” Caridin said when Leliana had guided Renya back over. “I thank you for standing with me. At last… it ends here. But you came seeking aid, did you not?”

“Yes, for the new king…” Renya managed.

“I am old beyond my time. I am no longer fit to choose a king, so far removed am I from the state of Orzammar. Do not even tell me their names,” he said with a shake of his head. “I will put hammer to anvil one final time, and then you will choose the next king of Orzammar. I trust they will be in good hands.”

“Thank you.”

Caridin walked up the long staircase to where the Anvil of the Void sat, and began crafting a crown for them. The rhythmic clanging of the blacksmith’s tools echoed around the cavern. They stood silently watching him until he finished.

“It is done. Give it to whomever you will.”

Renya took the beautifully crafted crown. “Ma serannas. Thank you, Paragon Caridin.” She looked up at the Anvil. “I will destroy the Anvil now, if you wish it.”

“That would please me greatly, friend.”

Leliana let go of Renya’s arm and the elf walked up to the Anvil. She raised the heavy hammer with both hands, briefly mesmerized by the blue veins of lyrium singing through the Anvil, before she brought the hammer crashing down. In a flash of light, the Anvil crumbled. Panting, Renya dropped the hammer and backed away. She stopped when she hit something solid. It was Caridin. He turned toward the edge of the walkway and stared out over the lava flowing beneath them. Renya stood by his side.

“You have my eternal thanks, stranger. Adraast a’nall ansha. May you always find your way in the dark.”

And without another word, Caridin spread his arms and stepped off the walkway.

Renya lurched forward without any plan, and then stopped herself as she watched the golem fall into the lava, one dark speck against the glowing red.

“It is over,” she murmured to herself. She walked back to her companions and smiled slightly when she saw Nyviel holding the dwarven crown and looking very awkward.

“Are we ready to go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew...
> 
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> 
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	110. Going Back and Moving Forward

The walk back was fairly uneventful. Wynne watched Renya carefully after her outburst in the Anvil’s cavern, but whatever it was that had been affecting the Warden seemed to be lessening. Or, perhaps Leliana was having a soothing effect on her. It certainly seemed that whenever Renya’s eyes grew wild, Leliana would quietly step next to her and touch her arm or take her hand. Sometimes she would whisper into the elf’s twitching ears, and Renya would close her eyes, take a steadying breath, and be soothed.

“Do you think we will run into any more darkspawn?” Zevran asked a few days later. “It has been unnervingly quiet.”

“I don’t know,” Alistair said. “We should be. We’re in the Deep Roads, after all.”

“No,” Renya called from the other side of the camp. She was still electing to sleep far away from the other companions, although she seemed to have given in to Leliana’s pleading to stay with her.

“No?” Alistair echoed, frowning.

“No. The archdemon has called them deeper into the roads. They are not ready to emerge yet.” Renya sighed, looking haunted. No one asked how she knew this, but she didn’t miss the worried look Alistair and Leliana shared. She rose, and Leliana followed her, concerned. “Are we ready to move out?”

“Yes, let us continue,” Morrigan said. She had been unquestioningly agreeing with the Warden since they had stopped to rest for Wynne. “I am suddenly aware again of the mountain pressing around us, and am eager to return to the surface.”

Unfortunately that part wasn’t so easy. When they returned to Orzammar, they were immediately greeted by delegations representing both Harrowmont and Bhelen. Luckily the crown was hidden, and they pushed past them as they walked back to Tapster’s Tavern.

“Any news, Grey Wardens?” one dwarf asked. “Lord Harrowmont is eager for this infighting to be over and for Orzammar to return to normal.”

“But that is the problem,” sneered another. “Prince Bhelen wishes to bring Orzammar into the future. We have been helped by surfacers, and Bhelen knows only good can come of better relations with them.”

“Bhelen killed his brother and wishes to remove the caste system!” another dwarf cried.

Renya pressed on, but the dwarves continued to follow her.

“And Harrowmont is so steeped in tradition that the moment he ascends the throne Orzammar will be sent three ages into the past.”

The dwarves began to argue, which quickly escalated into fighting. Renya and Alistair jumped out of the way, pulling the mages behind them instinctively. Guards appeared out of nowhere as one of Bhelen’s men knocked down one of Harrowmont’s and buried an axe in him. Renya was reminded of Nadezda’s accounts of the two nobles.

“Enough!” shouted one of the guards, trying to intervene. “This is no way to act in front of our visitors!” Soon the fighting ceased, and the guard turned to Renya.

“My apologies, Grey Warden. You must be weary from your travels.”

“Yes,” said a well-dressed dwarf that Renya recognized as one of the dwarves from the Assembly. “But the assembly has awaited your return. It is most urgent that you come at once.”

Renya sighed. The singing was much less now; in fact, it was so low it no longer bothered her, but with the singing diminished she realized how sore and tired she was. She nodded wearily. “Yes, but I wish to change out of my armor first.”

“As you wish. The coronation will happen immediately after we hear your news, and perhaps you wish to…” He eyed her greasy hair. Renya scowled at him.

“Dirthara’ma…” she grumbled at him.

***

Half an hour later, Renya approached the Assembly with Alistair, Morrigan, Leliana, and Oghren. Nyviel promised to return as soon as she had given the list of golem names to the Shaperate, and, after meeting a very eager young dwarf named Dagna, Wynne had stayed behind to help pen a letter to the Circle Tower asking for permission for Dagna to study with them.

Not surprisingly, once they entered the great assembly building the Wardens and their party heard arguing coming from behind the closed stone doors.

“You can’t go in there,” one of the guards commented as Renya walked past him.

“I am the Grey Warden sent to find the Paragon Branka,” she said with a slight bite to her tone. “I have an invitation.”

The guard’s eyes widened. “Right this way, ser. My apologies.” He started to open the door. Renya saw Alistair straightening his the gloves of his dress uniform, and Renya copied him, fussing with the tails of the blue and white jacket she wore. Leliana dragged her fingers over the shoulder-guard the uniform offered, tracing the griffon, before giving Renya’s one ungloved hand a squeeze.

“You look fine, my love,” she whispered.

As the guard opened the doors and the Wardens entered, all arguing stopped. Standing on a raised platform were Bhelen and Harrowmont, both looking red in the face.

“Ah, Warden, you have returned,” Bhelen said in his assured voice. “What news do you have?”

“I do not trust this surface dweller,” Harrowmont argued. “It is well known that she and her friends had been running errands for Bhelen before he sent her to the Deep Roads.”

“Do you mean to tell me that you have not asked favors of the Wardens, either?” Bhelen asked with mock surprise. Murmurs echoed around the room.

“Enough!” the Speaker yelled from the middle of the floor. “Warden, what news do you bring?”

“I have a crown,” Renya said clearly and without introduction. “Forged by the hand of Caridin.”

Another shock wave of whispers rustled through the room.

“Caridin? The paragon blacksmith?” Harrowmont said. “It cannot be.”

Renya showed the crown to the Speaker, who studied it carefully before nodding.

“This is the work and symbol of the Paragon,” he affirmed. “What did Caridin have to say? Who did he chose as king?”

Now this was the part she hadn’t thought through. On the one hand, Renya cared little for dwarven politics and believed that she had no right choosing their next king. On the other hand, the paragons seemed to care little for dwarven politics, as well. Should she put blame on the paragons, neither of whom could defend themselves, or take responsibility for a decision she did not have qualifications to make in the first place?

Renya sighed, thinking of the trouble the Anvil had caused for both Caridin and Branka. Let the durgen’len have their paragons as shining beacons of hope.

“Caridin told me to choose who I thought would best serve Orzammar,” she said slowly. Outrage shook the Assembly.

“Order!” the Speaker cried. “Order, or I will clear the assembly!”

“Listen!” Oghren barked now. “This Grey Warden found the Anvil of the Void, spoke with an ages-old paragon, and earned his trust. He thought that she is capable of choosing the next king. I stand by the paragons, and by the Grey Wardens, too.” He nodded at Renya curtly and shot her a wink that was uncharacteristically not lewd.

The Speaker sighed. “And what is your choice, then, Grey Warden?”

Renya looked between the two dwarves staring at her apprehensively. Bhelen wanted to remove the castes, and Dust Town was terrible. Harrowmont wanted peace, which was the only thing Renya ever wished for, but Nadezda had painted such a horrible picture of what the poorest dwarves would have to face under his rule that she paused before speaking his name. On the other hand, Bhelen had spoken of better relations with the surface, as in the old days when Orzammar was prosperous… Creators, who thought it was a good idea to entrust this decision to a talking statue and an elf? She took a deep breath.

“Bhelen,” she said. “Bhelen is the next king.”

“Finally,” Bhelen said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The Speaker nodded and Bhelen stepped down from his platform. The Shaperate, who had entered silently while they had been talking, stepped forward. He began speaking in the old dwarven language, and Renya handed him the crown when he asked her for it.

Bhelen knelt before the Shaperate and the Speaker, and bowed his head as the ornate crown was placed on it and the Shaperate spoke in the dwarven language.

“Rise up, King Bhelen Aeducan,” the Shaperate finally said in the common tongue. Bhelen stood and faced Harrowmont.

“Do you acknowledge me as king?” he said forcefully.

Harrowmont looked uncomfortable. “I… I cannot deny the will of a paragon,” he said, kneeling and bowing to the new king.

“Good. Then as my first act as king, I sentence Lord Harrowmont to death!”

“What?” Renya said sharply. “You cannot! He was a worthy opponent! You cannot just kill him!”

But Bhelen shook his head. “You know as much as I do, Warden, that we must stand united in the face of this Blight. I cannot have his shadow lurking and gaining support.”

“I…”

“Return to your rooms and rest. You are at Tapster’s, aren’t you? A nice place,” he said with a smile, this one much more relaxed. Renya raised an eyebrow at him.

“Festivities will be occurring soon, Warden. A coronation feast the next two days, and I will host a Proving the day after that. I would be honored if you represented me.”

“The Grey Wardens do not ally with any political party,” Renya said flatly. She was still troubled that his first act as king was so bloodthirsty. Politically clever, but still bloodthirsty.

“Renya…” Alistair murmured behind her.

But Bhelen didn’t seem offended. “Except you have. Mine.” He smiled. “And we are united against the Blight, are we not? You have your soldiers, and the full support of Orzammar. Call, and we will answer.” He surveyed her. “You would honor me by fighting in the upcoming Proving.”

“We’ve been through so much,” Leliana said gently.

“Then rest!” Bhelen said jovially. “Enjoy the celebrations! You have done much for me, and I would not want to burden you with more trials so soon after your return! Good day, Grey Wardens.”

And with that he was gone.

***

A knock on the door made all of them look up. They had just returned from one of the grand celebrations for the new King Bhelen, and a few of them were still sitting around in the common area digesting before going to sleep.

Zevran answered the door.

“Message for the Grey Wardens, Ser Renya and Ser Alistair” the dwarf said, looking up at him.

“Thank you, my good dwarf.”

“What does it say?” Renya asked as the Antivan sat down on the couch again. He unrolled the scroll and scanned it. “It gives details about the Proving tomorrow.” He read more, his brow furrowing a little. “One on one combat…”

“I am not sending mages into a proving against fully armed warriors,” Renya said with a shake of her head.

“Indeed. ‘Twould hardly be fair. The dwarves wouldn’t have a chance!” Morrigan said, trying to catch Renya’s eye. The elf glanced at her and chuckled with a little shake of her head.

“You won’t have to, my lovely Warden,” Zevran replied, looking up. “The invitation is only for you and Alistair. The rest of us, I’m afraid, have the much more difficult task of watching.”

Renya took a deep breath. “Right.”

Alistair rose and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, with that lovely thought,” he said. “I’m going to bed.”

“You should get some rest, too,” Leliana said quietly to Renya. Renya nodded.

“In a bit. You go on.”

Leliana squeezed her hand. “Don’t keep me waiting,” she said with a small smile before going into the bedroom.

“And why are you still out here, my lovely Warden?” Zevran asked, handing her the note even though they both knew she couldn’t read it.

“I am not tired.”

“I could think of some much more interesting things to do than sit here,” Zevran offered with a wink.

“Like tell stories,” Nyviel said pointedly.

“Yes,” Zevran said sarcastically. He brightened. “Well, certain stories…” He laughed. “But I see my stories are not welcome now. I will leave you to your… girl time.” He winked, and Renya rolled her eyes. Still chuckling, Zevran retired to the room he was sharing with Alistair.

“I may try to sleep, at least,” Renya said, starting to rise. “If I am going to be in a proving tomorrow, I will need to be in top condition.”

“You’ll be fine,” Nyviel said with a smile, rising as well. “You know,” she added slyly. “I heard that human nobles who compete in tournaments will champion for someone else.”

“Champion?”

Nyviel smiled wistfully. “Yes. The stories say that these humans fight for their love’s honor. It is a dedication of their strength and wits to the person they are a champion for.”

Renya arched an eyebrow. “I always wanted to dedicate my strength and wits to a durgen’len king,” she remarked sarcastically.

“Just because someone sponsors you, doesn’t mean you are their champion,” Nyviel replied with a shrug.

“I will keep that in mind tomorrow when a dwarf is swinging an axe at me.”

But Nyviel noticed the thoughtful glance Renya shot at the door leading into the room she was sharing with Leliana. The younger elf grinned. “Ma nuvenin. Melava somniar, Renya.”

“Melava somniar.”

The Warden knocked on the door to her room.

“Come in,” Leliana called. Renya entered and found Leliana sitting up in the bed reading. She smiled when she saw Renya and flipped the covers down.

“You don’t need to knock, my love,” she said softly.

“I did not want to surprise you.”

Leliana smiled. “I’d prefer if you did. Come here.”

Obediently, Renya climbed onto the bed and slipped under the covers. Leliana lowered the lamp, leaving them in relative darkness.

“Thank you,” Renya said, resting her head on Leliana’s chest when the bard lay down with her book. She smiled when she felt Leliana start running her fingers through her hair.

“For what, my love?”

“Everything in the Deep Roads. And… just everything.”

“I promised to stay by you, Renya,” Leliana said softly. “I meant it.”

“I know. Goodnight, Lelia.”

“Goodnight, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee, first they have to find a paragon, then pick a king, and now survive a proving? A Warden's work is never over. And how unexpected that Oghren stood up for the Wardens, right?
> 
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> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us and access extra video-game related thoughts.


	111. The Proving and What Happened After

Leliana woke the next morning to find Renya looking at her. The elf was propped up on her elbow.

“Good morning,” Leliana said with a stretch. She blushed a little when she saw how intensely Renya was looking at her. “What is it, love?”

“Just admiring you in this light, vhenan,” Renya said softly. She sighed when she heard Alistair walking around in the common area. He sounded like he was talking to someone at the door, and didn’t seem too happy about it.

Renya kissed Leliana lightly before scooting off the bed and collecting her armor, freshly oiled and polished by courtesy of King Bhelen. He had even had all the dents worked out. She felt Leliana’s eyes on her and turned.

“Vhenan?”

“I… I was just thinking about how much I love you,” Leliana said with a brave attempt at a smile. She saw Renya’s raised eyebrows and her expression faltered.

“You are worried for me,” Renya said, turning her attention back onto her armor. “You are afraid whatever happened at the Anvil of the Void will happen in the proving, and I will not be able to control myself.”

“Well…” Leliana sighed.

“The singing is less, Leliana. No more than it was when we first entered Orzammar.” She glanced up at the bard seriously. “I promise.”

“Why were you affected so? It must not be a Grey Warden attribute, otherwise Alistair would have been in the same situation.”

Renya sighed. She had wondered that, too. “I am not sure. And there is no one to ask,” she said, not looking at Leliana. She frowned. “Perhaps… I was originally tainted by a cursed mirror, before my Warden Joining.” She met Leliana’s eyes with a shrug. “I suppose being doubly tainted is not particularly healthy,” she offered, trying for humor.

Leliana nodded, remembering what Alistair had said about Renya being tainted before becoming a Warden. Without any other Wardens in Ferelden, she supposed they wouldn’t know for sure what the cause was, or if Renya would fall victim to it again. She got up and walked over to the elf. “I just worry for you sometimes. Recently, I’ve worried for you most of the time.”

“I will be fine, Lelia. Tel’enfenim. Do not worry so much.” She paused. “What do you know of champions?”

Leliana frowned. “Champions? What do you mean?”

“I mean… Nyviel said something about champions in tournaments, but I did not understand what she meant.” Renya shrugged. “Fighting for honor or something like that.”

“Oh, I see,” Leliana replied. “A champion fights for another. Usually it is because the champion cares for the person, or the cause, and they are willing to publicly show it.”

Renya turned to face Leliana, tying her hair up into its usual bun with practiced ease. “Humans fight people they do not have to, just to show they care about someone?”

“Well, they don’t organize tournaments for that purpose, no,” Leliana admitted. “The tournament is for entertainment, but the knights usually fight ‘for’ someone. They carry a small token, like a handkerchief or a pendant, into the ring, and dedicate their fight – their abilities – to the person they love.”

Renya tilted her head. “And humans like when other humans fight people for entertainment?”

“It’s not a real fight. No one gets badly hurt, usually,” Leliana explained patiently, trying to suppress her smile at the Warden’s attempts at understanding human cultures. “It’s symbolic. A champion shows their dedication to their love publicly and without reserve. Shows that he or she has the strength to defend their beloved.” She smiled. “It can be quite romantic, actually,” she added, remembering some of the tournaments she had attended as Lady Cecile’s minstrel.

“You think this is romantic? You have had many champions?” Renya asked.

Leliana shook her head. “I am the daughter of a servant, who grew up to become a minstrel in a lady’s court. I was not important enough to have a champion in a tournament!” she said with a little laugh. Her smile faded. “What is it?”

Renya was frowning at her, eyes narrowed in concentration. Maybe this was like the custom of a Dalish hunter presenting their love interest with an animal. It was an act completed to publicly show that the Dalish was strong enough to provide for his or her potential bonded.

“King Bhelen has sponsored me in a tournament,” she said slowly. Leliana nodded with a little pride.

“That’s right. So you are his champion.”

“No.” Renya shook her head, brows still furrowed.

“No?”

“No,” Renya repeated. She cleared her throat. “I… I want to fight as your champion. This is something that humans like, yes? Something you like?”

She coughed again. “If this is something that is meaningful in human culture, I… I will dedicate my strength and my wit to you at this proving,” she said awkwardly, not sure if that was the right way to say it. Noticing Leliana’s face, she tried to backtrack.

“Unless… unless you do not want me to.”

Leliana blinked a few times, fighting back tears. She stepped forward and Renya took her into her arms easily, feeling bad at the silverite armor separating them.

“Do not cry, Leliana,” Renya said, bewildered. “I did not mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. You don’t have to do that for me,” Leliana whispered into Renya’s neck.

“But… this is something humans like, isn’t it?”

Leliana chuckled and looked up. Renya was staring at her, looking awkward and confused.

“You are important enough to have a champion, Lelia,” the elf said softly. “I will be your champion.”

Leliana nuzzled into Renya’s neck again and nodded, swallowing hard. She took a few deep breaths before pulling away.

“Well, in that case, I must prepare. I’m sure you want me to look good in the stands when you go out there.”

“Of course I do,” Renya said. She leaned back and her eyes swept over Leliana, still in her sleeping clothes. “But you just have to show up for that.” She laughed as Leliana slapped her arm playfully.

“Oh, you…”

***

Renya sat in the holding cell underneath the proving grounds, listening to the opening spar. Alistair had been hustled to a different side of the waiting area, and Renya was left alone with nothing but her pounding heartbeat to keep her company.

Footsteps hurried along the corridor, coming closer.

“Alright, miss. She’s in here. By the Stone…”

A moment later, Leliana appeared in the doorway of Renya’s cell, accompanied by a very grumpy dwarf.

“Lelia?” Renya asked incredulously, walking over. “What are you doing here?” She hadn’t seen her since outside the proving grounds, when Bhelen’s “honored guests” were escorted in one direction and the two Wardens had been led to the area they were now in.

“I… I have something for you,” she said, handing her a something small and round. Renya took it curiously. It was a gold ring with a deep blue stone set in it.

“It’s… your favorite color,” Leliana said shyly as Renya examined the ring. “And it looks like there are Elvhen markings on the stone.”

“This is a symbol of Andruil, the Elvhen goddess of the hunt,” Renya replied in wonder. “Vir Tanadahl… the Way of the Three Trees…” She looked into Leliana’s eyes. “Ma serannas, Leliana. Thank you so much!” She kissed Leliana on the cheek before removing her glove and slipping the ring onto her right index finger. “But what is this for?”

“It is customary for a champion to carry a token of their beloved into the ring,” Leliana said, studying for Renya’s reaction. “Unfortunately, fleeing Orlais and living as a Chantry sister means I have few personal belongings. Not even a handkerchief... I found this at one of the market stands.” Leliana sighed. “I’m sorry it isn’t a more personal token –oh!”

She found herself pulled into a crushing hug. She returned it, smiling at the feeling of her simple dress pressed against Renya’s gleaming armor.

“I love it,” Renya murmured, kissing Leliana again. “Vir Tanadahl – the Way of the Three Trees – it… it is the three rules Dalish hunters live by. It is said Andruil gave the Way to the ancient elves.” She pulled away and counted on her fingers, standing up straight as if reciting a lesson. “Vir Assan, the way of the arrow, is to fly straight and never waver. Vir Bor’assan, the way of the bow, means to bend but never break, and Vir Adahlen, the way of the forest, means together we are greater than one.” She held Leliana’s gaze for a moment, a small smile tugging on her lips. “Ma serannas, ma vhenan. This is a wonderful gift. I will wear it proudly.” She touched Leliana’s cheek gently.

They were interrupted by the grumpy dwarf from before. “Alright, miss. You need to go back to your seat. The Grey Warden is about to be introduced.”

“Good luck, my love.”

“Ma serannas. I will see you later.”

“And Renya?” Leliana blew her a kiss from the doorway. “Be careful.”

Renya smiled. “I promise.”

***

Renya stood before the great stone doors, listening to the crowd behind it roar. She heard an announcer’s voice but couldn’t clearly make out what he was saying; she presumed he was introducing the dwarf she would be facing. Suddenly the doors swung open in front of her to reveal a large open arena, packed with dwarves.

“The Grey Warden Renya Mahariel!” the announcer cried. The crowd roared. The grumpy dwarf she had met before gave her a little shove.

“Go on then.”

She walked out into the arena and was greeted with cheers. Above her, to her left, was King Bhelen, surrounded by other nobles. In front of him were her companions, with the exception of Alistair, who had just finished his spar and was presumably being brought back to his own waiting area. She smiled when she saw Leliana sitting next to Nyviel, gripping the younger elf’s hand tightly. Renya’s eyes met hers, and she raised her hand and kissed the index finger of her glove, underneath which was the ring Leliana had given her. Leliana smiled.

“To honor King Bhelen, this proving will go until first blood, and first blood only,” the announcer proclaimed. Renya swallowed and looked at the dwarf in front of her. He was a head or so shorter than her, but was wielding a large maul that Renya was sure she would not be able to parry.

A gong sounded, and the dwarf advanced. Renya followed his lead, an they circled around each other. He held his maul at the ready, and she drew her blades with a flourish, eliciting a murmur from the crowd.

Suddenly the dwarf charged and swung. Renya dodged and jabbed at him, but the dwarf’s momentum took him beyond the strike. The dwarf turned and began circling again. He feinted, and Renya took a small step back, eyeing the maul.

With that, the dwarf was on her. She attempted to dance away from him, but he was too quick and eventualy smashed her with the pommel of his maul, knocking her to the ground. A gasp went through the crowd as the dwarf raised the maul to strike her.

Renya rolled out of the way in time, and the maul crashed down onto the dirt where she had lain. She jumped at the dwarf, but he brought his weapon up to shield himself from her blows. Renya flew at him furiously, trying to gain an advantage, concentrating on upsetting the dwarf’s balance. Finally, he started backing away under her attack, and she saw the opportunity. She lunged in with a jab and withdrew quickly as the dwarf gasped, a small gash on his cheek.

“Round one to the Warden!” the announced cried. The crowd cheered.

“How many rounds are there?” Nyviel asked, swiveling around in her seat to face Bhelen. The dwarven king looked down at her, applauding.

“This will be the best of three,” he said. “Your Warden is quite capable. Of course, I am not surprised,” he added with a smile as he turned his attention back to the ring.

“Second round, to first blood,” the announcer reminded them after the dwarf had been cleaned up. A gong sounded and the two fighters circled each other more carefully this time.

“You are quite formidable, Warden,” the dwarf commented.

“As are you, Ser Dwarf,” Renya returned politely.

They swung at each other, but Renya was able to nimbly duck out of the way of the maul’s destructive path. The crowd gasped. Renya was thankful the singing was gone. If this had happened in the Deep Roads, she was sure this dwarf would be dead by now.

He swung at her again, but she jumped out of the way, searching for a new opening. As the maul crashed into the ground, she darted closer. Something whistled through the air and buried into a small area in the back of her neck not covered by her armor, narrowly missing her spine and interrupting her swing.

She gasped and wheeled around, only for another whistle to announce a second blade burying itself above her collarbone. The dwarf she was fighting raised his maul, looking around warily.

“Get down, Warden,” he said sharply as Renya gasped in pain. She collapsed to her knees, and he stood protectively in front of her, scanning the stands and holding his maul at the ready. “Treachery!” he cried. “Treachery!”

The arena was in pandemonium. Above the shouting came Bhelen’s voice, demanding that his guards find the man responsible.

Leliana was on her feet, staring down at Renya in horror as the elf pulled the blades out of her neck and slumped further onto the ground, trying to stem the flow of blood with her fingers. She felt Nyviel grab her arm tightly to steady her.

“She’ll be alright,” Nyviel said automatically, her expression matching Leliana’s.

“Where is this fiend?” Sten was growling. “I will show him what it means to fight with such cowardice.”

“You are a mage,” Bhelen said from behind Wynne.

“Yes, I am,” Wynne replied, turning around.

Bhelen was glowering across the crowds. “My guard will escort you to the arena. Assist the Warden.”

Without another word, Wynne left the stands accompanied by a very sturdy-looking dwarf.

Morrigan’s eyes were narrowed. “Perhaps this was the plan all along?”

“Why would the dwarven king betray Renya? It is due to her he is on the throne,” Zevran said, similarly scanning the crowd.

“He has already shown he will kill those he deems a threat,” Morrigan replied with a shrug.

“She’ll be okay,” Nyviel said again to Leliana, putting her hand on the bard’s shoulder. Leliana nodded vaguely, watching as Wynne hurried into the arena to attend to Renya as Bhelen’s guards searched the crowds. Renya was lying on the ground, looking very pale and holding her neck as a pool of blood grew underneath her. Wynne knelt at the elf’s side and chanted over her, and eventually Renya nodded. A few minutes later she slowly sat up and tentatively removed her hands. Wynne, frowning as she inspected the wounds, murmured something to her before rising.

“We found him, sire.” One of the guards had hurried up to Bhelen. He pulled a surly looking dwarf on the arm. “A supporter of Harrowmont. Shall I throw him in the dungeon?”

Bhelen stroked his moustache thoughtfully. “No,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I have a better idea.” He looked at the dessenter coolly. “Throw him in with the Warden. Let her exact her revenge, and then we shall deal with what is left.”

“Very good, sire.” And he hustled the dwarf away.

“Renya won’t kill him,” Leliana commented to Bhelen. The king shrugged.

“Good. It will show I am a much more honorable king than Harromont would have been. I have picked my champion well.”

Leliana was about to reply when Morrigan pointed. “Look.”

Renya was up again, and Wynne had been led out of the arena. The dwarf Renya had been fighting bowed to her, raising a finger on his left hand.

“I yield to the Grey Warden,” he said clearly. Bhelen nodded.

“The Grey Warden is victorious,” the announcer said. Some of the crowd clapped, but concerned murmurs dominated the stands.

“By order of King Bhelen,” the announcer said now. “The abhorrable creature who so treacherously tried to foul our great proving traditions will be brought before the Grey Warden.”

Renya frowned and looked up at Bhelen, who smiled at her. She shook her head as the stone doors opened. Two guards frog-marched a third dwarf into the ring, threw him on the ground, and retreated back to the stone doors. With interest, Renya noticed that they did not leave the ring.

She stared at the dwarf. “We are to fight, then,” she said. The dwarf glared up at her.

“You have no idea what you have done to the traditions at Orzammar. You have ruined us!”

Renya felt her anger mounting. She hadn’t wanted to participate in this proving to begin with, and hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with their elections. She kicked the assassin’s blades back over to him. “Get up and fight me, then.”

The dwarf took the knives carefully. “You will kill me,” he said, looking up at her from the ground.

The elf shrugged. “You would kill me, too.”

He glared at her. “For Lord Harrowmont!” the dwarf cried suddenly, standing and lunging at her. She dodged him easily. With that, the fight was on.

Blades flashed as the elf and dwarf fought, moving around the ring. The dwarf swung at her with both blades, and Renya blocked them with her longsword, but the dwarf dove at her, knocking her legs out from under her. She fell to the ground with a thump. The dwarf bore down on her, but she kicked up and knocked him away. She swung herself to her feet again.

The fight was becoming erratic, with the dwarf hacking at her and not giving her a chance to do anything but frantically block his attacks. Eventually she blocked one of his swings with her longsword, and lashed out with her left hand, punching him in the nose. He reared back with a cry as the crowd laughed. His watering eyes narrowed as he glared at her, but this time when he lunged she was ready. Faster than the crowd could clearly make out what happened, Renya twisted around, knocked the dwarf to his knees, and crossed her blades around his neck. The crowd gasped and fell silent. Leliana gripped her knees a little harder.

“Go on,” the dwarf said, blood running out of his nose. “Kill me.”

“First blood,” Renya said clearly. When the dwarf tilted his head slightly and frowned, she smiled. “Your nose.”

“The Grey Warden is victorious,” the announcer cried, eliciting cheers and whooping from the crowd. Renya removed her blades and stepped back. “Warden Mahariel not only recovers from a treacherous injury, but shows mercy. She has represented King Bhelen in this proving.”

Bhelen rose and the crowd cheered louder. He held up his hands until the arena was quiet.

“In honor of Renya Mahariel, Grey Warden and Khozoh of Orzammar!” he said, his voice echoing around the stands. His eyes met hers and he smiled, raising his right hand as if giving a blessing. “I salute you!”

More cheers erupted from the arena.

Renya’s eyes met Leliana’s, up in the stands, and she smiled when she saw Leliana grinning and applauding with the rest. She kissed her glove again and Leliana beamed back at her.

A cry caught her attention. The dwarf had lunged at her again, but he was caught mid-strike by the guards.

“Come on, you,” one said gruffly, ripping the blades out of his hands. “His Majesty wants you in the dungeon to await your fate.” He nodded at Renya. “Grey Warden.” Renya nodded back.

A few minutes later, Renya was back in the little holding cell she had been sequestered to before the proving. A door banged open and shut, and her companions streamed into the little stone room.

“Renya, are you alright?” Wynne was the first one in. She began checking the elf’s injuries.

“Warden,” Morrigan added, surveying her seriously. “I am glad you are well. ‘Tis rather unfortunate a mage could not be a part of the proving. ‘Tis perhaps another creature who would have benefitted from being turned into a toad, yes?”

Renya laughed.

“I would not have shown him mercy,” Zevran said from the doorway. “But I guess that is why you are the Grey Warden and I am not, yes?”

“You showed great restrain, Kadan,” Sten rumbled. “Especially against a creature so dishonorable in combat. Had he been a follower of the Qun, he would have been executed as an example.”

“It should have squished the little dwarf,” Shale agreed.

“I’m glad that’s over,” Nyviel said. She had little half-moon indents underneath her eyes from where her nails had dug in in worry, but smiled at Renya. “You were amazing.”

“I heard what happened,” Alistair added, coming into the room. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Renya said, touched and embarrassed at her friends’ concern. Leliana smiled at her.

“Let’s go back to Tapster’s,” she said quietly.

“Alright, then, are you?” Oghren asked once they were outside the proving grounds. “Good. Glad ter hear it.”

“Yes, and I am glad it is over,” Renya said. The tavern came into view. “I am ready to sleep until spring.”

***

“Stay for another round, Warden!” one of the dwarves cried. “It’s hardly midnight yet!”

“No, I really couldn’t,” Renya said firmly, standing up and smiling when she saw Leliana happily scooping up coin from a game of wicked grace she was playing with a very cross-looking dwarf.

“Your Majesty!” someone else cried. Immediately everyone jumped to their feet as Bhelen entered the tavern with a young dwarven female with tattoos on her face, similar to the markings on Nadezda and the other Dust Town dwarves. He looked around easily.

“Please, continue,” he said. “I am here to commend the Wardens and promise Orzammar’s continued support of their mission to end the Blight and fight the darkspawn.”

A small cheer went up around the tavern. Slowly the sound in the room rose back to its usual volume.

“Congratulations, Renya,” Bhelen said. “I’m glad to see you are celebrating.”

“Yes. Although I was just about to leave,” Renya said, beginning to rise again. Bhelen grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

“Surely you have time for one more toast?” He made a motion to one of the barmaids, who came over with a few glasses of a red liquid.

“To new allies,” he said, raising his glass. “May you always find your way in the dark.”

“And you, Bhelen,” Renya said politely, raising her own drink. She glanced at the woman sitting next to the king and looking around uncomfortably.

“It’s about time Orzammar joined the modern age,” was all Bhelen said, noticing Renya’s glance. He rose. “Well, Warden, I shall leave you to your rest. You will always be welcome here, and when you call, Orzammar will answer.”

“Thank you, Bhelen.”

She watched him leave, gallantly offering his arm to the dwarven woman next to him, who took it with a smile. She sighed and went back to watching Leliana beat the same dwarf at another card game. With a grin, she went over to investigate.

“That’s no fair, lass. You must be cheating,” the dwarf grumbled, stroking his beard.

“Shall we play again? Once more, and you may set the rules.”

The dwarf laughed. “No, I don’t think so. You’ve taken enough of my coin, haven’t you?” he said easily, although his eyes lingered on the small pile of coppers sitting on Leliana’s side of the table.

“Which I had every intent of giving back,” Leliana said with a glance at Renya, pushing the pile back over to the dwarf. “I bid you goodnight, Ser Dwarf.”

He raised his bushy eyebrows.

“Well, thank you, miss. Much obliged to you,” he said, scooping the coin back into his purse. “Good evening to you. And you, Warden.”

“Were you going to keep the coin?” Renya asked once the dwarf had walked away. Leliana rose and shook her head.

“No. After all the goodwill you just inspired, I would not ruin that by taking money from the people,” she said with a little laugh. “Are you going to bed?”

Renya nodded, still feeling sore from her fights earlier in the day. “Yes. I may sleep until next year.”

Leliana took her hand. “Only if I can stay there with you.”

Renya smiled, but paused when she saw a somewhat-familiar dwarf peeking in the window of the tavern.

“I will be right back,” she said quietly to Leliana, gently pulling her hand out of the bard’s and quietly exiting the building.

The dwarf quickly darted away when Renya looked at her, and so Renya walked amiably over to the wall at the side of the path, overlooking the cavernous cave they were in, watching the heat swirl up from the lava below.

“You’re the Grey Warden who went into the Deep Roads, aren’t you?”

Renya smiled and turned around. “Yes, I am,” she said, looking down at the small dwarf who had worked up enough courage to approach her. The woman looked familiar somehow, but that wasn’t possible. Renya was sure she hadn’t met her before. The dwarf rung her hands.

“Please, my lady, have you… did you find a young dwarf named Ruck? He is… my son…”

Renya’s heart felt heavy, remembering the poor dwarf she had left in the Deep Roads and the promise she had made to him. She sighed.

“Your son…” she paused. “Ir abelas, my friend. I am sorry. Your son… was lost in the Deep Roads.” It was true.

The woman wailed and fell to her knees. “My Ruck!” she sobbed into her hands. “I had prayed he would return to me. Years I prayed!” She cried a little longer before taking a shuddering breath and rising again. “But he is with the ancestors now.” Her eyes met Renya’s. “Thank you, kind ser. I wish there was something I could do to repay you for bringing me this information.”

“You do not owe me anything,” Renya said sadly. She gave her keeper’s ring a twist. “I wish there was more I could do for you.”

“No, no,” the woman said, beginning to turn away. “You have done more than anyone else in Orzammar was willing to do. Thank you, Ser Warden. I wish you all the luck defeating your Blight. Ancestors smile on you.”

Renya sighed as the dwarf walked away, her shoulders shaking as she began crying again.

“Is everything alright?”

The elf turned away from where she was staring after the retreating figure to look at Leliana, who had followed her out of the tavern.

“Ruck’s mother,” she said simply.

“Oh,” Leliana replied sympathetically, looking in the direction in which the dwarf had disappeared. “Poor woman.”

“Yes.” Renya took Leliana’s hand. She sighed before turning to the bard with a small smile. “But…It is a nice night… I think it is night, anyway. What do you say to a walk around the Commons?”

Leliana gave her hand a squeeze. “There is nothing I would like more right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, guys. I'm apparently failing at my promise to be better about posting regularly. BUT we've reached 10,000 views!!!! Woo!! Thank you guys so much!!!!! You have no idea how happy you make my little heart by reading and sticking with Renya and the gang :)
> 
> Anyway. So the Proving happened and everyone got out relatively unscathed, so that's good, at least. Could it be their time in Orzammar is finally ending? Creators, it's been a while, hasn't it?
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us and access extra video-game related thoughts.


	112. I Thought You'd...

Renya yawned and rubbed her face. She was sitting on the floor of her room, cleaning and oiling her armor. Leliana was in the washroom taking a bath and watching as Renya ignored her in favor of scrubbing the remains of the proving off the silverite.

“You really should consider a bubble bath, Renya,” Leliana called, rubbing her arms luxuriously. “Especially after the proving today. The warm water would do you good.”  
“Hm?” Renya replied, now inspecting her dar’misu.

Leliana sighed. While generally endearing, Renya’s obliviousness could sometimes be frustrating, too. “I think your armor is quite clean. You’ve been working on it for some time, now.”

It was true. After their walk they had gone back to the room and, upon hearing that Leliana wanted to try out the bath salts, Renya had looked pleased and said she wanted to finish cleaning her armor, anyway. Leliana had tried to not become exasperated as Renya hummed and went about taking off her armor and changing into her sleeping clothing. She had instead left the door to the washroom open, turning on the water and adding salts to the bath before slowly removing her clothes, watching for Renya’s reaction. Unfortunately the elf started rummaging in her pack, still humming to herself, oblivious to Leliana’s actions.

Leliana had even left the washroom, daringly wearing a dressing gown left open in the front, to get her sleeping clothes, which forced her to walk in front of the elf. Renya had glanced up at her, done a double take, and then smiled, commenting on how beautiful Leliana was.

…before she returned to her armor. Leliana had tried to engage her in conversation, but Renya had merely answered her politely and otherwise not taken notice of her. Finally Leliana was fed up.

“Are you purposefully ignoring me?”

Renya looked over at her with a frown. “Ignoring you? What do you mean?”

Maker, Leliana thought. Renya’s eyes were staying carefully trained on her face. “I am here, in a bath.”

Renya arched an eyebrow at her. “Yes, you are.”

Leliana sighed. “I am here, in a bath. Unclothed.”

Renya grinned. “Well it would not be very easy to wash if you had clothes on, vhenan, would it?”

Leliana took a steadying breath. “Unclothed and _alone._ In a bath,” she said with meaning. Renya’s smile faded in confusion.

“Of course,” she replied, turning back to her work. “Do humans usually bathe together?”

Another sigh escaped Leliana. She watched Renya thoughtfully for a few minutes before a grin crept across her features and she slipped under the water.

In one fluid movement, she rose from the bathwater and flipped her hair back, running her fingers through it seductively. A crash caught her attention, and she opened her eyes to see Renya sitting in a position suggesting she had just dropped her longsword onto the pile of armor on the ground. The elf’s mouth was open and her eyes were wide. Leliana smiled with self-satisfaction; she still had it.

“Something wrong?” Leliana asked, now stretching.

“…ah… I…”

Leliana rubbed one of her arms slowly, watching Renya watch the movement. “Are you alright, my love?” she asked with concern.

“…I…ah…” Renya shook her head experimentally. “…wow.”

“Come here.” Leliana kept her gaze carefully on Renya, smiling a little when she saw the elf obediently rise and walk over.

“Yes, vhenan?”

Leliana looked down at the elf, now much shorter than her as she stood in the tub. She reached forward and stroked Renya’s cheek with one of her fingers before leaning forward and kissing her gently. She pressed a few more kisses onto the elf’s lips.

“Did you need something, vhenan?” Renya asked softly.

Leliana looked at her incredulously. The elf’s voice was impossibly even, even as she gently laid her hands on Leliana’s waist and her eyes swept over the bard. Leliana’s heart beat harder with desire and frustration; she wanted to break the stoic exterior more than anything, fluster Renya, make her look at her with the same wanting that Leliana was feeling right now.

“No,” Leliana breathed into Renya’s lips before kissing her again. “I just wanted to say hello, of course.”

Renya chuckled. “Hello, Lelia.”

Leliana’s heart fluttered as she felt Renya’s fingers begin to whisper along her skin. The cool air of the room added to her shiver.

“Shall I leave you to your bath, then?”

How was she so calm? Leliana pulled Renya a little closer. She wanted nothing more than for the elf to ravish her right in the tub.

A thunk, followed by a hiss of pain, caused Renya to pull away, rubbing her knee. She squinted up at Leliana, still rubbing. “I thought that overall the proving went well today, don’t you?”

“Maker’s breath…” Leliana murmured, stepping out of the tub. _Fine,_ she thought. If Renya was not feeling particularly amorous, she would just have to deal with that.

“Yes,” she said, pulling a towel from the nearby stand and wrapping it around herself, noticing with a little satisfaction the disappointed look that crossed Renya’s face. “You were very brave. I was so worried for you.” She smiled as Renya finally stopped fussing over her knee. “And I think Morrigan was ready to curse a number of the dwarves in the ring. And outside of it, too.”

The elf chuckled. “I am glad she did not. It was my fight.” She fiddled with something on her hand.

Leliana looked down and saw Renya gripping the blue vir tanadahl ring she had given her as a token, and glanced back up to see Renya smiling at her, her eyes twinkling.  
“I would be extremely unhappy if Morrigan became your champion.”

The bard nodded, and let herself be pulled closer, Renya’s hands again on her waist. “I’ve never had anyone be my champion before,” she said quietly, looking down. “I’ve never… not in life, and certainly not in a tournament.”

They were pressed together now, and Renya brushed a piece of wet hair from Leliana’s face. She leaned in to the elf, feeling the towel begin to slip and sighing to herself as Renya pulled her into a hug, effectively stopping the towel’s fall.

“Y-you should…” Leliana began, wrapping her arms around Renya’s shoulders. “You should claim… what is… is yours. Claim your prize.” She felt utterly foolish at this last-ditch attempt at love-making.

“What?”

Leliana sighed. Did she have to really spell it out? “What I mean is-”

“No, Lelia,” Renya said seriously, pulling away just slightly enough to look into her blue eyes. “You are not something to claim. You are not a prize I have tried to win. No.” She kissed Leliana gently. “You are a woman, to be loved,” she murmured over her lips. “…that I love,” she added quietly.

“Then… then…” Leliana stammered, feeling dizzy with emotion as she pulled her body away so her towel loosened a little more. “Love me…”

“I do love you.”

“M-make… make…”

Renya silenced her with a kiss. “Let’s go to bed, Lelia.”

Leliana smiled as Renya began walking backwards, pulling her toward the bed. “I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw... I love oblivious Renya haha
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us and access extra video-game related thoughts.


	113. Always

When she finally opened her eyes, she found herself tucked into the bed with the lamps out. Beside her lay Renya, holding her close so their foreheads touched and their legs were intertwined. The glinting green eyes were downcast; the elf was either lost in thought or didn’t want to stare at Leliana and frighten her if she woke up and saw glowing eyes in front of her. But they flitted up to meet hers and crinkled.

“Vhenan,” Renya said softly, kissing her. Leliana reached up and stroked her cheek, letting her fingers drift over her ear.

“My love... That was…” Leliana sighed happily. She kissed Renya again.

“I was not too rough with you?”

“No, my love. Why…?” But she saw Renya look away. “I know what you’re thinking, and stop it,” she amended sternly. “You… you stopped. You… I… I trust you.”

“But you were thinking of the Deep Roads, too,” Renya said knowingly. Leliana slapped her on the arm.

“I said I trust you,” she said with finality. She snuggled into the elf as if to prove her point. She listened to Renya’s sigh as she was wrapped in the elf’s arms and a kiss was placed on her forehead. They were silent for a long time. The last thing Leliana heard before drifting to sleep was Renya murmuring in Dalish.

“Ar’lath, mir enansal…”

***

They were packed and leaving Orzammar early the next morning. Alistair and Renya had been pleased to find out that King Bhelen had paid for their rooms at Tapster’s Tavern, in thanks for their services to Orzammar. Oghren accompanied them to the gate.

“So, er… you Grey Wardens… you probably need help, with this riffraff following you, right?” he asked gruffly when they reached the enormous gates leading to the outside.

Renya looked down at him, suppressing a smile at the various scoffs that followed the dwarf’s question. “We will not be returning to Orzammar or the Deep Roads for some time, Oghren,” she said. He shrugged.

“I know that. I just… there’s nothing for me here, and killing those beasties is as good a way as any for ol’ Oghren to pass his time, ya know?”

The elf eyed the silverite armor and the giant two-handed axe strapped to the dwarf’s back before glancing at Alistair. Oghren was a fine warrior, that was for sure.

“Pasharra, are we to bring a dwarf with us now, too?” Sten grumbled from the back of the group.

Renya clenched her jaw. “Yes.” She turned to Oghren. “If you want to come with us, the Wardens will gladly accept your help.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Oghren said happily. He looked at the door apprehensively as the party marched on. The doors creaked open.

“Hey, Warden.”

“Yes?” Renya took a deep breath as they walked outside.

“I… I… whoa…”

Renya smiled, watching the dwarf stare up at the sky.

“It’s like a ceiling that goes on forever. And…” He sniffed. “There’s so much… _air_ out here.”

“That is the sky,” Renya said kindly. The poor dwarf was pale. “Are you alright?”

“What?” he asked sharply. “Yeah. Yeah I’m fine. Just…” He took another deep breath and rolled his shoulders. “Just getting my bearings. Don’t you worry about ol’ Oghren. He’ll be just fine.”

***

They met with Bodhan and Sandal outside of the Last Stand Tavern, and continued on their journey. The air was much warmer than when they had entered Orzammar.

“Spring is coming,” Zevran commented with a smile. “Finally.”

“And where is this journey taking us next, Warden?” Morrigan asked crisply.

Renya frowned at her; perhaps Morrigan’s behavior, like her own, had been odd in the Deep Roads because of the darkspawn. Were mages more succeptible to evil influences? Before she had a chance to think about this too hard, Alistair cut in.

“We’ve secured the mages and the dwarves, and Arl Eamon will lend us his army,” he said. “Now all that’s left are… the Dalish, right, Renya?”

“Yes,” she said, her heart sinking a little. “Yes,” she repeated. “So we are going back to the Brecilian forrest.”

“The Brecilian Forrest?” Nyviel said. “We were told stories about how it’s haunted. The Dalish really live in there?”

“Of course,” Renya said with a shrug. “The spirits do not bother us if we do not bother them. It is setheneran… where the Veil between this world and the Beyond is thin, but…” She shrugged. “It is home.”

“I never understood why the Dalish would want to live someplace that’s so hostile,” Alistair commented thoughtfully.

Renya shot him an annoyed him. “The forest is less hostile toward the People than humans have ever been. And besides,” she added with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It helps keep out at least some of our unwanted guests.”

“Will we be… safe there?” Nyviel asked.

“I would think a mage of the Circle would be less frightened of things that lurk in the Fade,” Morrigan said. “Perhaps I was wrong in my assumptions.”

“I was just curious,” Nyviel snapped back, turning pink and glancing at Renya nervously.

“We will be fine,” Renya said, already looking off into the distance. “It is not the spirits I am worried about…”

***

They walked until late into the night before making camp. As the companions settled in for the night, Renya made her way over to Morrigan’s tent and sat down by her fire without so much as a greeting.

“Is there… something you needed, Warden?” Morrigan asked, eyebrows raised.

“No,” Renya replied. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. The Deep Roads seem to have affected us all.”

“Oh,” she said, taken aback. “I am… fine. I have experienced no ill effects from being underground for so long. You must not worry about me so.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

Morrigan studied Renya. The elf was staring down at her knees, and if elven ears could droop, hers definitely would have been.

“I wonder,” Morrigan said now, noticing Nyviel’s attempts at waylaying Leliana from walking over. “The true reason you are here, though? ‘Tis apparent I am well.”

“Do you miss the Wilds, Morrigan?”

“What is this you ask me?”

“Do you miss the Wilds? Do you miss your home?”

“I…” Morrigan shook her head. “I swore to myself, years ago, after my foray into the human world, that I would never leave the Wilds again,” she admitted quietly. “It was safer, familiar. Even with Flemeth.”

“Would you go back if you could?”

Morrigan tisked. “Even the most powerful mage cannot travel back in time, Warden.”

“I do not mean go back in time. I mean… just go back.”

Morrigan was silent for a long time. “Why do you ask these things of me?” she asked, surprised at the softness in her tone. She immediately regretted it. Another opportunity lost, but perhaps another one would present itself soon…

Renya sighed. “I do not know, Morrigan. Here,” she added, pulling something out of her pack. “This is for you.”

“What’s this? A mirror?” Morrigan turned it over in her hands, her eyebrows getting progressively higher and all calculations leaving her mind. Her voice became soft again, gentle. “This is… this is just like the mirror Flemeth smashed upon the ground. Where did you find one so like it? I find I am at a loss as to what to say.”

“You do not need to say anything, Morrigan. I just wanted you to have it.”

Morrigan scoffed, although she held the mirror as if it were a delicate flower.

“You must want something in return, certainly.” Her old bite was back in her voice.

Renya looked at her sadly. “No, Morrigan. It is a gift.”

Morrigan looked down at the mirror again and swallowed the small lump that had appeared in her throat. “I… I have never received a gift… not one that did not come with a price attached…” She stroked the mirror lovingly. “Thank you. This gift was most thoughtful.”

Renya nodded and began to rise.

“Warden…”

“Yes?”

“I…” Morrigan was still staring at the mirror. “’Tis a strange thing, I do not know how to describe it.”

“What is it?”

“I am reminded of our first meeting in the Wilds.” Morrigan rose and stood next to the Warden.

“How so?”

“I had followed you as a raven for some time,” the witch replied with a shrug. “And what I saw fascinated me. Here was a woman who was much more able and potent as a warrior than the men who traveled with her.”

Renya nodded and pulsed her jaw. She had thought the same thing at the time, but felt bad about it now that two of those men were dead. With a small sigh, she thought of the task ahead of them, and wondered if they had been lucky or not.

“And,” Morrigan continued, unaware. “Here was a woman with sense, who would put pragmatics over all the trivial things that humans assign so much pointless meaning to.”  
“Elf,” Renya replied with a little smile. But Morrigan shook her head.

“I admit that I resented Flemeth when she told me I was to travel with you. I thought at best you would cast me from your company, and at worst label me what you would and put me to the sword.”

Renya turned and looked at the taller woman, gold eyes gleaming down at her in the dark.

“Why would I do that, lethallan?”

Morrigan instantly looked uncomfortable “I realize I have little… talent…for friendships. I never felt I needed such trivial things. But,” she continued, her voice a little gentler. “When I began following you, I had no idea that I would find such… such a friend in you. Perhaps…” Morrigan ducked her head a little, her brain telling her to stop. “Perhaps,” she repeated tentatively. “A… sister?”

Renya grinned and grabbed the witch’s shoulder amiably in response.

“While I may not always prove…” Morrigan swallowed. “Worthy of your friendship….” Her voice cracked, and a little twinge of guilt pulsed through her. “I want you to know that I will always value it. Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hm..
> 
> At least the witch and the elf are friends again. That's nice, I suppose, right?
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	114. Loose Ends

Morrigan watched as Renya returned to her bedroll, only to be fussed over by Leliana, and shook her head. She had no idea what had come over her. Telling the Warden she thought of her like a sister? But Renya, for all of her intuition, had accepted Morrigan’s confession as if all memories of the Deep Roads had been forgotten. That was good, at least.

Morrigan cursed herself silently for botching the job. Things had gone too far, too fast, and had almost caused Renya to crumble. It had been Leliana, of all people, who had been able to drag Renya back from the brink of hopelessness, and Morrigan found herself, for once, thankful the bard was around. That mistake could not be repeated.

“Sisters…” Morrigan muttered to herself. It was true, if she allowed herself to be honest. She had never trusted someone like this in her life, and it terrified her. There was still much to be done, and trivial feelings like a sisterly bond could not get in the way. Yes, Morrigan agreed with herself as she saw Leliana pecking Renya on the cheek for the umpteenth time. There was still much to do.

***

“That reminds me,” Renya said, pulling away from Leliana a little bit. “I have something for you, too.”

“Pampering me with gifts? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to win my affections.”

Renya humphed in response, but smiled.

“Is it working?”

“It is. Greatly.” Leliana laughed and followed the elf over to Bodhan’s cart. A soft squeaking was coming from the inside.

“There you are, ser,” Bodhan said with relief. “I was wondering when you were going to take this little beastie off my hands. Makes an awful racket, he does.”

“Yes, I am sorry about that,” Renya replied. She held up a finger to keep Leliana from following her, before reaching into the back of the cart and pulling out the pinkest nug she had ever seen.

“For me?” Leliana asked with a small squeak. She knelt down and clapped her hands to get the animal’s attention as Renya put it on the ground. “Oh, it’s one of those… subterranean bunny-pigs!” she gushed. “It’s so cute! Come here, you!” The nug waddled over and immediately snuggled into Leliana, causing a fresh bout of giggles to escape from the bard.

“Careful,” Renya said, arching an eyebrow. “He might nip.”

“Oh, no,” Leliana said reproachfully to Renya before turning back to the nug. “He’s just hungry.” She touched the animal’s body gently. “Look! He’s snuffling me. Snuffle, snuffle!” And then she erupted into a fit of giggles again.

“What is that?” Nyviel was patrolling the camp and had come over to say hello.

“A subterranean bunny-pig,” Renya said solemnly.

“What, by the Ancestors, is that bite-sized snack doing wandering around our camp?” Oghren gruffed when the three had wandered closer to the campfire again, Leliana cradling the nug in her arms.

“Schmooples is not a snack,” Leliana said protectively, snuggling it a little closer to her chest.

“What’s a ‘schmooples’?”

“That’s his name.”

A short silence followed this. Oghren caught Renya’s eye; the elf shrugged and looked back at the little nug. Finally the dwarf sighed.

“Just what we need,” he grumbled. “A snack named Schmooples wandering around the camp.”

“I think he’s adorable,” Leliana said. She smiled at Renya. “Thank you so much. You’ve made my day.”

Renya shrugged again, offhanded this time. “You are welcome. And stay away from him,” she added sternly when Elgar sniffed his way over to investigate. He looked at her and whined.

“Not a snack,” she said, crossing her arms.

He huffed at her.

“I said no. He is a pet.”

An indignant bark.

“He is Leliana’s. Leave him alone.”

Elgar sighed before turning resignedly away and curling up again by the fire. The elf winked at Leliana before returning to her bedroll.

***

Renya and Alistair exited Avernus’s laboratory with matching headaches.

“You should have just killed him. What he has done is against everything being a Warden stands for,” Alistair grumbled.

“He may be able to unlock the secrets of darkspawn blood, lethallin,” Renya said with a little bite to her voice. “Imagine what that might mean for future Wardens. Anyway, there is no harm in him mixing potions as long as no one gets hurt,” she said in an effort to end the conversation before reaching the rest of the companions.

“And?” Leliana asked once the two Wardens joined them and they began walking out of the Keep to meet with Levi Dryden again.

“It’s been settled,” Renya said, shooting Leliana an apologetic look.

“Grey Warden business?” the bard asked with a little sigh. Renya nodded; it was no use telling Leliana she hoped Avernus would find a cure for the Calling now, not when so much else was uncertain. After the Blight, she promised herself.

“Oh, thank the Maker,” the man called Levi said. “You’ve done a right lot of good here, Warden. And I thank you, even if we didn’t find anything about my great-grandmother, Sophia. But here, you still have that metal you found on your way over? My brother Mikhail will be able to forge that into something proper, he will.” He shook his head as Renya began to protest. “It’s the least we can do, Warden. For everything, thank you.”

***

“Well I think it is fine. If you want to use it instead, lethallin, you can just tell me,” Renya said to Alistair a few days later. She was sporting two longswords – Duncan’s and Starfang, forged by Mikhail – as well as the silverite dar’misu that Garrison had given her. She smiled when Alistair put his hand protectively over Maric’s blade.

“And I am not about to give up Duncan’s, either,” she said.

They came to the edge of a dense forest and stopped. Renya continued, unaware, for a few paces before turning around and looking at her companions in confusion.

“What is it?”

“I didn’t expect the Brecilian Forest to be so… dark,” Wynne commented. She closed her eyes. “I can feel how thin the veil is from here,” she murmured. “It is a wonder…”

Bodhan pulled his cart around toward the front of the procession. “I’m not sure we’d be welcome there, ser,” he said to Renya.

“You’d be most welcome, Bodahn,” Renya replied with a smile. “The Dalish would be pleased to have such a fine tradesman trade with them.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

Renya nodded and started walking toward the forest again, her heart pounding for reasons she couldn’t explain.

“Renya…” It was Leliana this time. Renya stopped again.

“Will we be… safe in there?” the bard asked with apprehension, eyeing the dark trees. It had been quite some time since she had traveled through the Brecilian Forest, and the last time it had been with Marjolaine, Sketch, and Tug. She shook her head; did she really feel safer with them than with Renya? All else aside, she was a Dalish elf. If they should feel safe in the forest with anyone, it should be with her.

But Renya was looking thoughtful. “I would suggest not mentioning you are from the Shantri,” she said seriously before turning to Alistair. “And under no circumstances should you mention that you were once a templar,” she added darkly.

“Right,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“And I might also suggest,” Renya added, making a little head-nod toward the forest before proceeding. “That you leave any talking to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always have such high hopes to write holiday-themed things for the holidays.. maybe next year, once the Blight is over ;) Hopefully for now, a few usual updates will suffice! And I realize this is a very short chapter, so I do plan on posting a long one tomorrow morning!
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	115. Saotem

They walked in silence for the better part of the day. The trees cast cool shadows, and Leliana marveled at how Renya seemed to melt from one dark patch to the next. She had removed her Grey Warden armor and was once again sporting her green Dalish armor, although she maintained her swords and dar’misu.

Nyviel was doing her best to keep up with Renya, and was learning quickly from the older elf. Soon the two of them were sneaking silently through the woods with their human companions traveling mutely behind them. Even Zevran was opting to stay with the group rather than disappear into the shadows the way Renya was doing.

It was a pretty walk, Leliana had to admit. Dusk was falling, and the colors from the sunset were offsetting the green of the forest. She found herself walking next to Morrigan, and decided to not comment on the peacefulness of the forest.

“You have nothing to say to me?” Morrigan murmured a few silent minutes later. Leliana arched an eyebrow at her.

“You wish me to say something? I thought you preferred silence,” Leliana returned coolly. Morrigan smiled.

“Indeed. I did, however, expect something from you about how beautifully the light shone off the leaves, or how marvelously the elves move across the bramble with hardly a sound, or some other trivial matter about which I care not.”

“Why would I say such things, when you put them so eloquently, Morrigan?” the bard replied sweetly. Morrigan’s mouth opened, and then she huffed and closed it again as Leliana chuckled.

When they made camp, no one seemed keen to stand guard by themselves except Shale, Sten, and Renya. The Warden couldn’t help but smile at how frightened the others were of the forest.

“There is no spirit here that will seek to harm you if you leave it alone,” she said for what might have been the hundredth time that day. “And the clan is far from here, yet. They will not send anyone in the dead of night to seek us out.”

“Comforting,” Oghren grumbled.

As it was, Renya, Sten, and Shale stood watch for most of the night, having finally convinced the others that they were more than a match for the silent forest. Renya sat at the edge of camp in the small hours of the morning, smiling contentedly at the trees, when soft footsteps came up behind her and sat down next to her.

“Hello, Lelia.”

Leliana leaned into her, shivering a little. “Hello.”

“Could you not sleep?”

Leliana shook her head. “I just wanted to spend time with you.”

Renya nodded, feeling guilty. “Once we are in the camp, we will not be able to spend so much time together. Like this.”

The bard sat up straighter. “Why not?”

“Dalish and humans are… not… allowed to be… bonded,” Renya began awkwardly.

“Bonded?” Leliana asked with a frown. “You mean married? But we are not married…”

“And if they suspected we were anything other than friends,” Renya continued over her. “Well… it might not end well for either of us.” She looked at Leliana seriously. “Please, Leliana,” she murmured.

“I understand,” Leliana said after a small pause. She leaned onto Renya’s shoulder again and took her hand. “So let me stay with you tonight, then.”

***

They walked for hours the following day before coming across a little clearing, just as the sun was beginning to set. It looked like it had once been inhabited but the settlement had long since disappeared.

“What happened here, do you think?” Alistair asked quietly, his hand on his sword apprehensively.

Renya looked around at the surroundings a little bit before gasping.

“This… this is where the Sabrae used to camp,” she said in a strangled voice. She started breathing rapidly and heavily. “They are gone. They… they have left me. It is true,” she murmured to herself, distressed. As she looked across the clearing, something out of place caught her eye. Letting out a little cry, she ran toward it.

On the ground was a blue scarf, folded neatly, as if laid by a grave. Renya fell to her knees and picked it up delicately. She held it up to her nose, inhaling deeply, before hugging it to her chest and beginning to cry.

_“Why so early, ma’vhenan?” Renya grumbled as Merrill pulled her from the bedroll._

_“Be thankful Marathari is doing this at all,” she said._

_They were ready in minutes, and they found their way to the quiet, secluded place in the forest easily. Hahren Marathari was waiting for them._

_“Ah, Merrill, Renya. I am glad you made it. Are you ready to begin your lav’hasal?”_

_Renya suppressed a grin as Merrill nodded solemnly. They had been saotem – bonded – for close to four years now, but Marathari didn’t need to know that._

_“Have you brought your ceremonial sash?”_

_An awkward silence fell._

_“I knew there was something I forgot,” Merrill murmured. Marathari sighed. “Oh! Wait!”_

_With a wink at Renya, Merrill pulled the blue scarf she always wore – Renya’s favorite –from her neck and presented it to Marethari. “Here, we can use this.”_

_“I suppose that will do,” Marethari said, but Renya saw that she was trying to keep from smiling. “Come forward, Merrill and Renya…”_

_They took each others hands and Marathari bound them together with the scarf._

_“Now, then, let us begin the lav’hasal, the bonding of these two young souls, Merrill Alerion and Renya Mahariel…”_

“No…no…” Renya held the scarf a little more tightly to her chest. “She left me. She did not believe I was coming back… No…”

Suddenly nothing else was more important than returning to her clan. The archdemon, the Blight, her companions, and… She swallowed… _Leliana_ … She would leave them all to return to the Sabrae, find them.

_No,_ another voice in her head argued. She could not. They had left her – all but banished her because of the taint. Her fingers found the Keeper’s ring on her finger. Her heritage, Marethari had called it. She had known Renya could not return; the ring was the only thing she could ever have of her clan now.

_And Merrill…_

“Don’t…” she whispered in Dalish, ignoring the footsteps coming closer. “Please… don’t…” A mage’s staff came into view, and Renya’s heart leapt for a moment before she remembered that there was no way the staff could belong to the elf she most wanted to see.

Nyviel knelt next to the Warden without comment. She wasn’t sure why this scarf had caused Renya to become so upset, but even Leliana had hesitated in approaching the Warden mourning in this place of her lost home.

Once the Warden’s shoulders had stopped trembling, Nyviel placed a tentative hand on them. Renya didn’t pull away, instead just continued staring numbly at the ground in front of her.

“Do you want us to camp here tonight?” Nyviel asked a few silent seconds later.

Creators, did she? Did she want to sleep on the same ground above which her and Merrill’s avarel once stood? But it would be safer here. She knew how protected this clearing was, and knew the patrols better here than anywhere else.

“Yes,” Renya said with a waver. She cleared her throat. “Yes,” she repeated, a little more strongly. “We will camp here. I know the best places to patrol,” she added, as if proving to herself this was the real reason she wanted to stay here.

“And…”

“We will find the Arani clan tomorrow,” Renya continued. “We will rest for the evening.”

***

Leliana sat next to Renya during the evening meal, concerned at the elf’s lack of interest in both the food and the company offered to her.

“I am going to sleep before my watch,” she commented quietly after cleaning up. “Melava somniar, Lelia.”

“May I… join you?”

Renya paused and looked over her shoulder, and Leliana’s heart broke at the defeated look in her eye.

“Ma nuvenin,” she said heavily before dragging her bedroll over to where she had found the blue scarf. “As you wish.”

Leliana followed her with her own roll and lay down next to the elf when Renya made no further comment. She turned on her side and placed her hand gently on Renya’s shoulder.

“Is everything alright, my love?”

Renya’s stomach clenched. “Yes, Lelia,” she said softly. “Everything is fine.”

Leliana shook her head. “What is bothering you?”

“Many things,” Renya said, closing her eyes. “None of which I wish to speak about.”

“But-”

“Leliana,” Renya said quietly, opening her eyes again to look at the bard. She sighed but didn’t say anything else.

“The Beyond is close here,” she finally commented. “Be aware of your dreams, should you have any. They will seem more vivid if you are not prepared for them.” She turned her head and faced the sky again. “Goodnight, Lelia.”

Leliana sighed, recognizing that she wasn’t going to get anything else from the elf this evening. “Goodnight, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	116. Remember

Leliana opened her eyes to find the bedroll next to her empty. She rose with a sigh, but felt a little better when she saw Renya standing at the edge of the camp, on guard. She must have taken one of the early-morning watches. The rest of the companions seemed to be waking up, as well, so she rose with the rest and began rolling up her bedroll. Renya came over to help her silently, and, after a hurried breakfast, they left the clearing, Renya in front and walking a little too quickly to be completely natural. The bard noticed with some interest that Renya was wearing the blue scarf around her neck.

Almost two days of silent walking later, Renya held up her hand and the party stopped. She motioned for them to stay where they were, and moved forward noiselessly, looking around apprehensively, ears twitching as they tried to pick up all the sounds of the forest.

“What is she hearing?” Leliana whispered to Nyviel. The mage shrugged.

“I don’t know. I think she’s listening for something in particular, but…”

Suddenly Renya straightened and motioned them forward, now with the easy lope of someone who is close to their home. Soon a group of four elves came into view, all clad in matching dark brown leather armor.

“Aneth ara, falon,” the woman in the middle called to Renya. Renya waved and jogged forward.

“Aneth ara, asa’ma’lin,” she replied with a smile. They each grabbed the other’s upper arms before embracing.

“Ahnsul ma?” the strange elf asked. “What are you doing here?” She glanced at the companions hovering behind Renya. “With a band of shemlen behind you?” she added with suspicion.

“I am a Grey Warden now, Mithra,” Renya said, trying to not sound sad. But Mithra nodded sympathetically.

“I had heard that one of the Sabrae had joined the Order. Are there many Dalish elves in the Grey Wardens?” Mirthra asked. Her puzzled gaze shifted between Nyviel and Zevran, both conspicuously free of vallaslin.

“We are the only two Grey Wardens left in Radalas – Ferelden.” Renya indicated herself and Alistair, who smiled and gave a little wave.

“I see.” Mithra frowned at the others. “And these? Greetings, Ser Dwarf,” she added politely to Oghren, before nodding at Bodhan and Sandal, as well. “You are most welcome. But…” Her gaze fell back on the other humans.

Renya took a deep breath. “Alistair is a Grey Warden,” Renya repeated. “Leliana is Orleivhen, helping us fight the Blight.” Creators, that was quite a vague description of her, wasn’t it?

“Wynne is a mage from the Circle Tower – where the humans keep all their mages.”

“Templar,” muttered one of the elves behind Mithra, and spat on the ground.

Renya nodded vaguely, pulsing her jaw once. She hoped Alistair remembered her warning. “Nyviel and Zevran are also helping us fight the Blight,” she said, indicating each as she named them. “Oghren is a warrior from Orzammar, the durgen’len city…”

“Pleased to meet you,” Oghren said, his eyes sweeping up and down Mithra’s figure.

“Shale,” Renya cut in.

“A golem?” Mithra asked, eyes wide.

“The elf has heard of me?” Shale asked.

“I always wondered if golems were real,” Mithra said with a small smile. “Andaran atish’an, Shale the golem.”

“I like it here already.”

“Sten, of the Beresaad…”

The qunari nodded solemnly.

“And Morrigan is…” Renya hesitated, but only for a moment. “The daughter of Asha’bellanar.” She was fairly certain she didn’t sound too guilty.

Mithra’s eyes widened. “Well, a sister and Grey Warden would warrant an audience with Hahren Sathrian enough, but we certainly cannot keep Asha’bellanar’s daughter waiting.”

“I assure you, I care not,” Morrigan began. But Mithra cut her off.

“Come, I will bring you to the hahren. He would be most interested in meeting you.”

***

“Welcome!” said a bald elf with a mage’s staff strapped to his back. “It has been a long time since we have seen one of the members of our sister clan!”

“Andaran atish’an, Hahren Sathrian,” Renya said with a little bow. “Yes, it has been a long time.”

“Our last arlathvhen was what, almost five years ago now?” he said with a smile. “Yes, I remember. Marethari and Merrill were in attendance, and you accompanied Master Elrerion as one of the hunters.” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Renya Mahariel, if I remember, yes? Your father was the keeper before Marethari.”

“Yes, Hahren,” Renya said with a smile. She didn’t think a young hunter would be worth remembering to the keeper of another clan, and was very flattered.

“He was a good man, and a good keeper,” Zathrian said kindly. “But I am sure you are not here to discuss memories. What brings you here with such a…” He faltered, looking at the group standing before him. “Colorful group of people?”

“I am a Grey Warden now, Hahren,” Renya explained. “We are seeking help in ending the Blight.”

Zathrian looked troubled. “I see. That is a fine calling,” he managed, trying to smile. “But we cannot offer any aide now. We have been attacked by a pack of werewolves, and many of our hunters are injured. If the curse is not stopped, they may die.”

“What?” Renya said sharply. “Werewolves?”

“Yes, it seems the Blight brings darkness even to the protected forest,” Zathrian replied darkly. “Until the trouble with the werewolves has been resolved, we cannot offer any help to you, though I wish the end of the Blight as much as any elf.”

Leliana noticed that Zathrian didn’t quite meet Renya’s eye, and stiffened a little. Renya didn’t notice.

“Can we help?”

Leliana pulsed her jaw and shared a troubled look with Alistair. The other Warden sighed.

“Renya, we don’t really have time to go werewolf hunting. If the Dalish can’t help us, we will have to move on.”

“I would not expect a human to understand,” Zathrian said with a shrug.

“We cleared a tower full of demons and stabbed our way through the Deep Roads to gain the help of the mages and the dwarves,” Renya said sharply. “Are the Dalish not to receive the same benefits?”

“I… well…”

“The werewolves are lead by a white wolf named Witherfang,” Zathrian said when Alistair had mumbled himself into silence. “Once the monster is dead, the werewolf curse can be lifted from my people.” When Renya didn’t say anything, he added, “Bring me the wolf’s heart. I will then be able to heal my people and promise you the support you desire.”

“Renya,” Leliana murmured, not sure how she was going to convey her distrust of the keeper. Of course, she reasoned, that didn’t mean Renya was going to believe her, or take her side against a Dalish keeper. They obviously took their hierarchy very seriously.

“We need to unite Thedas,” Renya said with a hard look at Alistair. “We will help you end this werewolf curse.”

“Ma serannas, da’len. Now, I must leave you. If you have further questions, please talk with Lanaya, my first. You can resupply yourself with Master Varathorn, and I’m sure Mithra would be happy to describe our recent efforts with the werewolves.”

“Ma serannas, Hahren.”

About fifteen minutes passed while Renya talked with Lanaya. The first was very interested in human cities and culture, having been born into an alienage but rescued from bandits by Zathrian when she was young. She was amazed that Renya had become a Grey Warden out of duty, and Leliana was sure she saw Alistair droop a little when Renya said that she wished there was a way to return to her clan.

Leliana glanced at the tall Warden and wondered why he would be surprised. Renya didn’t make it secret that she missed her clan. But Lanaya was finishing telling them about Zathrian.

“It was so long ago that his children were murdered by humans, but he has lead us so well and kept us far away from the shemlen. Even his tolerance of your friends shows that he does not hold too much ill will toward them,” she was saying. “And,” she added, lowering her voice. “Some say he has learned the old ways and unlocked the secret to immortality again! He has been leading us for more than three ages!”

Renya looked impressed. “That is truly remarkable.”

“But here is where I must leave you,” Lanaya said as they approached Master Varathorn’s workbench. “If you have any other questions, please see me. For now, though, make yourself at home; you are welcome to stay the night and rest before you begin your journey into the forest.”

“Ma serannas, Lanaya,” Renya said politely before turning to Varathorn.

“By the creators,” Varathorn said in wonder. “You have grown up!”

“Hahren?” Renya asked.

“You look just like your father, Radavur,” Varathorn replied, smiling at Renya’s confusion. “He was a good man, and a good keeper. The last time I saw you, you were about this tall,” he said with a laugh, indicating somewhere around his knee. He sobered quickly. “What a tragedy. And it is too bad we do not talk about these things; he must be remembered.”

“Ma serannas, Hahren Varathorn. I wish I had more stories about him to remember, too.”

“Yes, we Dalish wish to remember our history, but hesitate to tell of painful memories. Perhaps over the evening meal I can tell you what I know. I only met him a few times, but…” He waited for her response.

“Ma serannas, Hahren. I would like that,” Renya replied quietly. Varathorn suddenly smiled, obviously wishing to change the subject for the moment.

“And you are a Grey Warden now?” The craftsman nodded in approval. “Hahren Radavur believed in having closer relations with the humans. An unpopular idea, but he would be proud that you were part of such a noble order.” Varathorn smiled sadly. “Yes, he would be very proud of you.”

Renya swallowed hard, her hand unconsciously going to the amulet tucked under her leather armor. “Ma serannas, Hahren Varathorn.”

Varathorn cleared his throat. “Now, if you need anything, let me know. I am not quite Hahren Ilen, but I can provide you with the supplies you need.” He caught sight of Renya’s bow on Leliana’s back. “That is a fine bow, da’len. Is it Elvhen-made?”

“Yes, I’m… borrowing it from Renya,” Leliana said carefully.

“It must serve you well,” Varathorn replied with a little pride. “Elvhen craftsmanship; there is nothing that compares.”

“No, ser.”

“Well, I will leave you to settle yourself into the camp. And Renya,” he called as they walked away. “If you come across any ironbark..?”

Renya grinned. “Vin, Hahren. I will bring it back to you.”

***

Renya sighed, looking around the camp. It was so nice to be back among the Dalish, even if this wasn’t her clan. She touched the scarf around her neck and swallowed the lump that immediately formed, forcing her attention onto her companions. Leliana had found Sorel, the storyteller, and, after some initial distrust on the elf’s part, they were happily telling stories to each other. Nyviel was talking animatedly to Lanaya, and the first was equally enthusiastic in her responses. Wynne was speaking with the healers – mages themselves – and was listening with interest as one of them explained the different uses of some herbs that humans apparently didn’t use.

Oghren and Zevran were both unsuccessfully trying to flirt with some of the young hunters, although if Zevran kept at it he would most likely find one elf who was interested in him. Renya suppressed a chuckle when she found Morrigan looking very uncomfortable as Zathrian fussed over her, wanting to ensure that the daughter of Asha’bellanar was well taken care of.

She patted Elgar’s head. “This is what home was like for me, Elgar,” she said quietly. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Elgar woofed conversationally.

“Maybe one day we will return…”

Elgar grunted noncommittally. Renya glared at him.

“Don’t you start doubting, too,” she reprimanded half-heartedly. He nuzzled her hand in response.

Alistair walked over and sat down next to Renya, looking a little uncomfortable. “So this is a Dalish camp?” he said, looking around. “It’s… surprisingly peaceful.”

“What did you expect, lethallin?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Perhaps more savagery?” Renya offered dryly. Alistair shook his head.

“Not after meeting you, no. I’m just… I don’t know what I expected anymore.”

“Renya.”

She looked up at her name. Mithra was standing in front of her holding a bow, grinning. “You still owe me a rematch.”

Renya shook her head. “That was a long time ago, Mithra.”

“What, are you afraid your skills have become worse?”

At that, Renya was on her feet, wearing a challenging smile. “You wish. Let me get my bow.”

Alistair looked up at Mithra in confusion as Renya loped off to retrieve her bow from Leliana, but the hunter was looking after Renya with an odd expression on her face.

“She gave her bow to a shemlen?” she asked herself. She turned to Alistair, who had just risen. “Why?”

Alistair raised his eyebrows at the demanding tone, and fumbled over what to say. “They’re friends,” he said with a shrug. “And Leliana is quite skillful with a bow.”

Mithra scoffed. “No shemlen is as good as an elf with a bow, and for one of the Elvhen to give her weapon away…”

“I never said I was as good as an elf,” Leliana offered quietly, having come back over with Renya. “I…” She handed the bow to the Warden. “I always am amazed by her skill.”

“You should be, shem.”

“Atisha, Mithra,” Renya said quietly. “These are my friends, and loyal to me.”

Mithra shook her head. “Perhaps you have gone soft, Renya. A shemlen-lover now? Have they made you a flat-ear?”

Color rose in Renya’s neck. “Let’s see what you say after this,” she replied stiffly, indicating the bow in her hands.

Mithra led them over to a small obstacle course, with logs and stones scattered about over a small stream. Wooden targets had been set up, some in obvious places, and some in places that even Leliana wasn’t sure how to get a clear shot at them.

“How many targets?” Renya said, not looking at Mithra.

“Fifteen.”

Renya nodded and removed the extra arrows from her quiver.

“You only get one shot at each target?” Leliana asked when Renya handed her the arrows.

“Just one extra,” Renya replied with a smile.

“That is the amount any Elvhen archer should need,” Mithra said, staring at Renya with oddly-bright eyes.

Renya’s lips twitched into a forced smile, her heart pounding. She wasn’t the best archer to begin with, and now her reputation was on the line because of the company she kept.

“Shall we go together, then?”

Mithra grinned. “Of course.” And she was off.

“Andruil, guide my bow…” Then Renya, too, ran off into the course.

Leliana and Alistiar watched in amazement as the two elves hopped nimbly from rock to tree root to rock again, shooting arrows at the targets. Six targets in, and they were fairly matched. Leliana didn’t notice how tightly she was holding the arrows as she watched Renya balance precariously on the edge of a log jutting out over the fast-moving stream, taking aim with calm concentration. Mithra landed on the log as she fired, and the arrow missed its mark as Renya corrected her balance. Alistair hissed in disappointment.

“That wasn’t fair, though,” he murmured to Leliana.

“Come on, Renya, you have to do better than that!” Mithra cried as she fired an arrow, hitting the mark as she jumped toward the next target. Renya shook her head and took a calming breath before firing again and hitting the target easily. She turned on the spot and fired an arrow after Mithra, which went whizzing past the other elf’s ear to bury itself neatly in the target Mithra was approaching.

“Like that?” Renya called lightly, smiling after her friend.

By the last target, they were still fairly matched, although Mithra had two arrows remaining, opposed to Renya’s one. They both took aim, and Renya fired. Leliana noticed with interest that Mithra waited to release her arrow until after Renya’s hit the mark.

“If I hit the target, I win,” Mithra commented.

“I know,” Renya said softly, already looking away and hopping off the rock to stand next to Alistair and Leliana. She sighed as Mithra pulled back on her arrow and let it fly.

It missed.

Renya grabbed Leliana’s shoulder as she began laughing, and then released it quickly.

“Tel’solasan!” she cried, pointing at Mithra. “Watch your pride, Mithra!’

Mithra shook her head and aimed again, but her movement was too jerky and a splash of water unbalanced her on the already-wet rock. She missed again.

She lowered her bow in shock before turning to Renya, who was grinning. The hunter hopped off the rock and rejoined them, shaking her head.

“What was that about flat-ear?” Renya asked as they began collecting their arrows.

Mithra sighed.

“Or shemlen-lover?”

“Do not be petty,” Mithra grumbled.

Renya spun on her heel. “You loudly accuse an Elvhen of being flat-ear, of betraying the People, and then you do not apologize for it?”

“I was only joking.” They were back on the ground and walking toward the camp again.

“It didn’t seem like it at the time…” Leliana commented softly.

Mithra turned on her. “Stay out of this, seth’lin shemlen!” she spat. “I don’t need some len’alas lath’din meddling in things she knows nothing about!”

Leliana didn’t catch the words, but understood the intention, especially when Renya pushed her way between them angrily.

“Do not talk to her like that,” she growled.

“Oh, I thought you already had a falon’saota,” Mithra said before stalking off.

“Don’t worry about it,” Leliana began once she had gone. She saw Renya’s face and backtracked. “What’s wrong?”

For Renya, instead of looking angry, appeared to wilt where she stood, her face pale and her eyes staring unseeing ahead of her.

“Nothing. I am fine.”

Leliana put her hand on Renya’s arm.

“What’s wrong, my l-”

“Don’t.”

Even Alistair startled at her tone. Renya took a breath and twisted the keeper’s ring on her finger.

“Just… don’t.” She shook her head. “Not here.”

Leliana removed her hand. “That’s right. I remember,” she said gently.

“Me, too,” the elf replied sadly before walking over to the campfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... we're in the Dalish camp now, at least...
> 
> Translations/refreshers:  
> Aneth ara - an informal greeting between Dalish/elves who know each other  
> asa'ma'lin - sister ("woman of my blood")  
> Ahnsul ma - asking what the person is doing/doing in a particular place  
> Radalas - Ferelden. I forget what "rad" translates as, but "alas" is earth  
> Orleivhen - Orlesian/from Orlais (as "vhen" is heart, this is the same type of usage as "Elvhen")  
> Andaran atish'an - a formal greeting between people who don't know each other ("I welcome you to this peaceful place" or "I welcome you in peace")  
> arlathvhen - a meeting of clans that happens every 10 years (translates to something like "a meeting of our hearts"). Renya was 22-ish for the last one (in this fiction), and so accompanied the hahren and Merrill with some of the hunters  
> Sathrian - his name is spelled Zathrian in the game, but I don't think the Dalish language has that harsh "zz" sound, so it comes across more like an "s". Like using the term "Shantri" instead of "Chantry," this is just to give a bit of Renya's accent (and Dalish accents in general) some screen time  
> seth'lin - thin-blooded (an insult)  
> len'alas lath'din - "dirty child no one loves" - obviously another insult  
> falon'saota - a person you are bonded to/a spouse. Not to be confused with "saotem," which refers to being bonded to someone or the actual ceremony performed by the hahren.
> 
> Whew. I think I got everything. Let me know if anything else needs a translation!
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	117. Secrets

During the evening meal Renya received another surprise.

“Meviel?” she asked in wonder. “What are you doing here?”

Meviel walked over with a little fledgling in tow. He sat at his mother’s feet as Meviel settled next to Renya.

“The clan moved on, but I didn’t want to go up to the Free Marches. There was talk of staying there for more than the winter,” she said without preamble.

“What?”

Meviel shrugged. “Things have changed since you left, Renya.” She put her hand on the elf’s shoulder. “Not all for the better. Marethari has become so secretive, and Merrill…”

“What of Merrill?” Renya asked softly, leaning in.

“It is too bad you did not come here sooner,” Meviel replied, switching to the common language and nodding at Nyviel as the mage sat on Renya’s other side. “She stopped here, but left only three or four days ago, looking for a cave.”

“A cave?” Renya’s voice was higher than usual. “Three days ago?” If only they hadn’t stayed in Orzammar so long.

Meviel nodded heavily. “She did not say what she was looking for or why, and I am not sure whether she told Marethari what she was doing, either,” she added with a little eye-roll. “You know how they had been getting along recently.”

Renya nodded numbly.

“But I never answered your question,” Meviel continued, accepting a small bowl of wine with little nod of thanks. “Abelard is dead.” She took a sip of wine, looking haunted. “He died in a templar attack not long after you left us. I… I just could not leave after that. I did not want to run away anymore. Not with our son.”

“Ir abelas, ma vhenan. I am so sorry for your loss,” Renya said quietly before ruffling the little boy’s hair.

“Serannas, falon,” she replied just as softly.

“So you’re from Renya’s clan?” Nyviel asked as Leliana joined them. Meviel nodded.

“Yes, we have known each other our whole lives. It is so strange to meet here, now, like this,” she said with a little smile. Renya, looking preoccupied as she stared into the fire, finally returned it half-heartedly.

“So what was Renya like as a child?” Leliana asked, shooting Renya a playful look but faltering when she saw Renya staring into the fire again, not paying attention.

Meviel shrugged. “Much as she is now, only a little shorter,” she said with humor. “She was always the most thoughtful of us, yet with a terribly wicked sense of humor.” She looked over at Renya, about to tease her, but stopped. The Warden was now listening and looking politely embarrassed, but her eyes were still haunted. Meviel narrowed her eyes at her in concentration. “Yes, she was lighthearted and serious, as elves should be,” she said vaguely.

“Lighthearted _and_ serious?”

But they were interrupted by Hahren Sorel standing and beginning to pray over the evening meal. Leliana watched relief spread over Renya’s face and Meviel nod in understanding. She wondered what secrets Renya was hiding, and, try as she might, she was not able to convince herself that she did not want to find out.

***

“And you are to sleep in the aravel with the other unbonded women,” Meviel was saying to Leliana and Nyviel.

“What about Renya?” Leliana said, keeping the disappointment from her voice. “She is unmarried, as well.”

“Morrigan and I will be sharing an aravel closer to Hahren Sathrian, with Lanaya. Guests of honor, apparently, yes?” Renya offered swiftly before Meviel could reply.

Sten, who had been occupied all afternoon with the hunters and seemed impressed, was asked to stand guard with the elves, something he seemed to take pride in.

“Yes, the elves know how to honor their guests, although I am not sure how sleeping arrangements should be factored into this,” he said in his low voice.

“Different honors for different races, Sten,” Renya said with a shrug. “I will be taking my watch later, do not worry.”

“Even as a guest of honor?”

“Everyone has a job in the clan.”

“Yes, your mage friend has been asked to help with the tending of the sick. Her skills are quite impressive, and it is nice to have more mages with us,” Meviel replied. “But come, the fire is burning low and I was asked to make sure all your friends had places to stay this evening.”

Renya made her way over to the aravel she and Morrigan would be sharing with Lanaya. The first nodded to them each in turn before showing them the bedrolls they would be using. Renya immediately curled up into one, Elgar at her side, and listened to Morrigan huffily accept her own.

“We hope this is to your liking,” Lanaya said respectfully. “We would not want the daughter of Asha’bellanar to think we were not treating her with the respect she deserves.”

“I do not think that is necessary, as my mother –”

“She means to say thank you,” Renya said from the other end of the room.

“Yes,” Morrigan grumbled. “Thank you.” And they bedded down for the night.

Meviel, meanwhile, had shown Alistair, Zevran, and Oghren to the aravels reserved for the unmarried men before returning to where Nyviel and Leliana would be sleeping. She went in to bid them goodnight before returning to her own aravel with her son. She was about to leave when Leliana sat up in her bedroll.

“Meviel?”

The elf turned, her brown eyes twinkling in the dark.

Leliana took a deep breath. It was not likely that she would get an answer, but she decided to ask anyway. “You knew Renya when she lived with the Sabrae?”

“Yes,” Meviel replied simply.

“And… what was it like there? She has rarely spoken of her family, and her friends only in passing…?”

A long silence followed this.

“She had a life there, but it is over now, is it not?” Meviel said carefully.

“But-”

“Atisha, human friend of Renya,” Meviel cut in. “Do not go prying into the lives of the Dalish.”

Leliana fell silent, and shot a glance toward Nyviel, who was lying on her side facing away from the conversation. Meviel must have seen her.

“And do not ask your elf friend to pry, either,” she added flatly. She turned to leave. “Melava somniar.”

Nyviel listened as Leliana sighed and lay down on her bedroll. Silently, she was glad Meviel didn’t answer Leliana’s question. Something had changed about Renya since that clearing with the blue scarf, something personal. Nyviel closed her eyes; she was positive that Renya would not want Leliana to learn her secrets from someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't do it, Leliana. Just leave it alone....
> 
>  
> 
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	118. Headaches and Werewolves

Leliana awoke to the stifling silence of the aravel. She was quite alone, and she sat up with a start.

“What in the Maker’s name…?”

She dressed swiftly and exited the landship to find the women she had shared sleeping quarters with either preparing the meal to break the fast, meditating, or speaking with some of the older elves.

She found Nyviel and Renya meditating with Lanaya. Surprisingly, Sten was also nearby, similarly engaged. Nyviel opened her eyes at Leliana’s approach.

“Good morning,” she whispered as she rose.

Leliana smiled. “Good morning,” she replied. “Where is everyone else?”

Nyviel pointed across camp. “Oghren is still sleeping, Alistair is impressing the fledglings with his swordsmanship, and Zevran is flirting with that elf over there. Wynne is helping Zathrian and the healers…”

“I see.”

“Yes, after breaking the fast you will be entering the forest, will you not?” Zathrian asked, stepping quietly next to Leliana. Lanaya’s eyes were open in an instant.

“Good morning, Hahren,” she said, rising. Renya followed her lead.

“Good morning. I hope I did not disturb your meditation, but before I become involved in other matters, I wanted to see our Grey Warden off. Meviel has been kind enough to gather supplies for you.” He nodded in the direction of the other elf. “And I have decided to send Mithra with you. She is familiar with the area, and I am sure you would like the company of another Dalish, yes, da’len?”

Renya smiled. “Vin, Hahren, ma serannas.” Although Mithra wouldn’t have been her first choice after yesterday.

After bidding the keeper a good day, the companions met around the fire to break the fast. When they finished, Lanaya came up to Renya.

“Were you planning on taking your whole party with you, Renya?”

Renya glanced around at her friends. “Well, yes. Why? Is there something you need here?”

“No, it is just… there are so many of you.”

Renya blinked. “And there are werewolves in the forest.”

Lanaya smiled. “Of course. I just hoped some would stay to help guard the camp, with so many of our hunters ill.”

Zevran stepped forward. “I would be willing to stay at the camp, my lovely Warden.”

“And stay near the pretty elves, I am sure.”

Zevran grinned but made a careless gesture with his hand. “Merely a perk.”

“Hey, if that elf is going to stay, I’m staying, too!” Oghren grunted. “He’s not the only one with an eye for the ladies.”

Renya looked at Lanaya and shrugged. “I will take them with me if you want.”

Lanaya laughed. “If they are good warriors, we would welcome them.”

“Very good,” Renya assured her.

Eventually everything was settled, and the companions shouldered their packs. Mithra walked up to Renya.

“The werewolves are deep in the forest,” she said without looking at her. “I would tell your shemlen friends to be careful.”

“Right.”

They set off. Alistair tentatively made his way to the front.

“Yes?” Mithra asked sharply.

“He is the other Grey Warden,” Renya intervened as calmly as she could. “He and I lead this group.”

“You are equals?”

“Yes,” Renya replied firmly.

Mithra sized Alistair up. “I am surprised. I would have thought the male shemlen would demand you follow him.”

“He is one of the best friends I have ever had,” Renya said. “Like Tamlen.”

Mithra clenched her jaw but nodded once, not wishing to begin a loud argument in the middle of the forest.

They traveled silently for some time. The air was still, save for the rare breeze and the gentle chirping of birds.

“Where are we going?” Alistair finally whispered once they had walked for a while.

“Merrill once told me about ancient Elvhen ruins deep in the heart of the forest,” Renya murmured back. “If there is strange magic here, we should go there.”

“Lead the way,” the taller Warden said with a smile.

“He follows you?” Mithra hissed, pulling on Renya’s arm.

Leliana watched Mithra with suspicion. “I am not sure how I feel about this elf,” she said quietly to Nyviel. “I am not sure how I feel about any of this.”

“We need help from the Dalish, don’t we?” Nyviel replied with a little frown.

“We do,” Leliana agreed. “But Renya seems to know her way through the forest, and I do not know why Zathrian would send one of his hunters with us, unless he didn’t trust Renya?”

“Or unless he didn’t trust the band of humans traipsing through the forest,” Nyviel replied wryly. “Renya told us she was the most accepting of humans in her clan, didn’t she?”

The party stopped, halted by Renya and Alistair’s matching raised hands. Mithra looked at them curiously.

“Darkspawn,” Alistair said with a nod ahead of them.

“Not too many,” Renya said with a frown. “But how are they here? How has the forest not protected itself?”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than two giant ogres appeared. Alistair bellowed and rapped his sword on his shield while Mithra, eyes wide, pulled out her bow and began firing arrows rapidly.

One of the ogres yelled, lashing out and grabbing Renya in his blind swipe as he lumbered around with arrows in his eyes.

“You shall not take her!” Morrigan cried, focusing her magic into a ball of electricity before firing it. Nyviel was by her side; she slammed her staff down onto the forest floor and sent a small earthquake toward the ogres, knocking them off-balance. Alistair, Shale, and Sten were on the ogres in an instant, and Elgar snapped at their knees.

Soon the two monsters lay dead, Renya still in one huge hand. She pried herself free.

“One day they will go after you,” she said good-naturedly to Alistair. “And then I will be the hero.”

“Maker, I hope not. I prefer my feet on the ground, thanks.”

Renya chuckled and they continued on. Leliana made her way to the front where Renya was trying to walk next to Alistair, but the elf kept getting elbowed forward by Mithra.  
“Yes, shem?” Mithra said to Leliana when the bard approached them. Renya clenched her jaw as Mithra eyed the bow on Leliana’s back. “You are lucky you have that bow. It helps your aim.”

Leliana took a deep breath and smiled. “Of course,” she said politely. “It is the Breath of Falon’din. No one can escape when Falon’din comes.”

Mithra frowned. “You know of Falon’din? Of the creators?”

“Just because I am human does not mean I do not respect your traditions,” Leliana replied, suppressing a smile as Renya tried to hide her grin behind a cough.

“It seems the forest has not been vigilant enough!” cried a gruff voice.

“They talk?” Nyviel exclaimed, pulling out her staff.

In front of them stood four tall werewolves, drooling and baring their teeth at the travelers. They were on their hind legs, and taller than even Sten. Without thinking, Renya pulled Leliana behind her. But she nodded politely. Merrill had told her enough stories for her to know that talking animals should never be taken lightly.

“Andaran atish’an,” she said. Mithra scoffed but didn’t say anything.

“Still you come,” the creature growled. “You are stronger than we expected. The Dalish chose well to send you, but you have no place here, elf. Go back. Go back to where you came from!”

Mithra glared at the animal. “You have invaded our forest and –”

Renya elbowed her. “I do not wish to fight you,” she cut in loudly, and Mithra was silenced, staring at Renya in shock. “But neither can I retreat.”

The werewolf considered her, mirroring Mithra’s confusion. “That is nice to hear,” he allowed. “But I do not believe you. You were sent by the treacherous Dalish to kill Witherfang! I will not allow this!”

The werewolves began howling. Renya stepped forward, ignoring the little strangled noise that came from Leliana’s throat. The elf offered her empty hands, heart racing. She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake by basing her actions off of a story of talking animals, but these werewolves looked very large and powerful, and she didn’t want to fight them if she didn’t have to.

“I wish to know more about this conflict,” she said. “So I may better serve the forest. I am a Grey Warden,” she added when the werewolves bent down onto all four legs. “The only creatures I wish to kill are darkspawn.”

“Your words are unexpected,” the werewolf said, standing up again. His brothers followed him. “I do not understand. My Lady will explain.” He considered Renya again. “I do not wish to fight you, either. I will leave you – this time.”

With another howl, the werewolves bounded deeper into the forest.

“What are you doing?” Mithra demanded when they were gone. “They attacked our people, sister!”

“And yet were willing to let us pass without a fight,” Renya observed. Leliana glanced over, meaning to catch Nyviel’s eye, but instead found Wynne. The older mage held Leliana’s gaze for a moment, looking impressed and proud. Leliana smiled and turned around as the party began walking forward again.

***

“Andaran atish’an, travelers.” The middle-aged elf smiled. “Hello, Wynne.”

“You… are you…?” Wynne walked forward, her hand outstretched. The elf took it kindly. “Aneirin?”

The elf smiled. “Yes, I found my way to the Dalish, after all.”

“You… the templar… I thought you were… Oh, Aneirin, I’m so sorry…”

“Atisha, Wynne. Be at peace. I stopped being angry and forgave you a long time ago,” Aneirin replied with a little nod at her. “I’ve found a home. I live alone in the forest – it is welcoming to me. I did not fit in with the Circle, nor did I find I truly felt at home with the Dalish, but…” He grinned and gestured around him. “The creators have blessed me.”

“I can’t believe this. Aneirin, I’m so glad you… you found your way.”

“Me, too, Wynne. And I hope you are finding your way, too.” He glanced around at the party, still smiling. His eyes rested a moment too long on Mithra before looking at Renya. “You hunt the werewolves with Zathrian’s clan, now?”

“I am looking for more information,” Renya said honestly. “I am a Grey Warden, and if I have learned anything since my Joining it is that people are not always as they appear.” She saw Alistair grinning out of the side of her eye.

“How dare you!” Mithra exclaimed.

“The ruins are that way,” Aneirin cut in helpfully, pointing. “Perhaps you all will find the answers you seek. And Wynne,” he added. He pulled her into a hug. “I am glad to see you.” He released her. “Now, dareth shiral. I will be here if you need healing on your return journey.”

***

They walked in silence for a while, Renya fidgeting with the blue scarf that she had tucked into her armor. Mithra had fallen back out of annoyance with the Wardens, and Renya found herself walking next to Leliana.

The bard considered Renya. The look in her eyes was far away, and her fingers had been rubbing back and forth across the deep blue material absentmindedly for some time.

“Is that a symbol of your clan?”

Renya seemed to rouse herself.

“Hm?”

“The scarf. Is it a symbol of your clan?”

“Oh.” Renya dropped her hand and began twisting her Keeper’s ring instead. “Yes.” It was, sort of.

“Do the Dalish often leave behind mementos when they move to another camp?”

“Not usually. No.”

“Then why-?”

Renya crossed her arms. “I wish I knew,” she said shortly. “But I suppose I should have expected it. Wynne was right. I should not make so many promises.”

“What are you-?”

“We should go this way,” the elf interrupted, pointing in a direction a little south of where they were going. “There is a sylvan that speaks in riddles and poetry down the path we are on, and my headache is bad enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, everyone!!
> 
> And with that, we're off.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	119. Theneras

_Renya stretched luxuriously; it felt like it had been forever since she had just sat down._

_“It’s not like you to sleep so late, ma vhenan,”Merrill said, coming into the aravel holding a bowl of food. She sat down next to Renya and handed her a spoon._

_Renya patted her leg, which was bandaged. “I figured I should capitalize on my ability to rest while I can,” she said with a little smile. Merrill tisked._

_“You’re lucky I’m so good with healing magic.”_

_Renya kissed her. “I know.” Another kiss. “I’m very lucky.”_

_“Good. That’s settled, then.”_

_Renya suddenly felt uneasy, but wasn’t sure why. Merrill leaned into her as she finished eating._

_“Are you sure this is what you want?”_

_“Hm?”_

_“I mean. Us. You know. And… and being saotem, and…”_

_Renya cut her off with another kiss._

_“It’s alright, Merrill. Tel’enfanim. There is nothing I have ever wanted more.”_

_“But… People talk. And you’re one of our best hunters, and I’m just the awkward, babbling first.”_

_Renya chuckled. “I like when you ramble.” Another uneasy twinge. “There is nothing I have ever been more sure about.”_

_She was home, Merrill sitting contentedly next to her with her arm around her. Why was she suddenly so fearful? She glanced across the aravel and gasped. A human was standing there, watching them. Suddenly, the world around her froze. She rose, but Merrill stayed in the same position she had been as when Renya was next to her. Renya, meanwhile, walked over to the human to study her. She looked into the blue eyes with muted recognition._

_“Vhenan?” The murmured word escaped her before she could register it forming. Her heart began racing and a lump jumped to her throat._

_Suddenly she was standing in a cave, shattered mirror shards around her feet. The Grey Warden with the black fuzz on his face had just left the cavern, Fenarel behind him._  
  
_But something wasn’t right. Merrill was supposed to be here. She was supposed to be here and be comforting her. Yes. Renya had collapsed into her arms, hadn’t she? Her sobs had echoed off of the rocks._

_She shook her head. Merrill was coming back here. Briefly she wondered why she thought that._

_A white flash of light overwhelmed her, and the next thing she knew she was lying on the ground, struggling to open her eyes. A human was standing above her. A human with red hair._

_“I am… very sorry…” she said._

Renya woke with a gasp. She looked around wildly. Leliana was still sleeping peacefully nearby, and Renya felt a little guilty that she was so close, immediately feeling guilty that she wanted her further away. Alistair was on guard, and she got up to talk to him.

“Nightmares?” he asked kindly, his eyes haunted. “This place is great for them, isn’t it?”

Renya nodded, swallowing hard. He looked at her carefully.

“What do you need?”

She took a shaky breath. “There… there is a cave. The… the cave that had the mirror in it…”

His face darkened.

“Before we return to the clan, I… I need to find it.”

Alistair studied her for a few seconds. Finally he sighed. “Why? Why go back there?” he asked softly.

But Renya shook her head. “It is just… It is just something I need to do,” she said, not meeting his eye. “There is something I need to find. And I know it is there.”

Alistair sighed again, deeper this time. “Maker knows you’ve taken time for all of us. We’ll go with you. Or,” he added, inclining his head meaningfully. “If you need to go alone, we’ll wait for you.”

Renya blinked back a few tears. “Ma serannas, lethallin.”

***

It took them another day to reach the ruins. Renya breathed a sigh of relief when she finally saw the grey stone structure peeking out from the moss and vines that had begun to reclaim it. It felt sad here, but Renya was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to really notice. In perhaps another few days, she would be standing back in the cave where all this started. Merrill would be there, and…

“This is magnificent,” Leliana murmured. “I never knew the Dalish had such temples.”

“We were once a mighty people, shem, before you took it all from us,” Mithra snapped back. “You would do well to not forget it.”

Leliana looked taken aback. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I do not accept the apologies from you or any shem,” Mithra growled, pointing at Leliana accusingly. “Your words can hardly balance the scales for what you have done to us.”

Leliana looked at Renya for help, but Renya was staring straight ahead and looking lost in thought. With an almost-imperceptible step to the side, Leliana nudged Renya’s shoulder, and the elf seemed to rouse herself.

“They are here helping the elves now, yes?” Renya asked. She sounded weary.

“You have forgotten who you are, Renya,” Mithra replied.

Renya’s eye gave a little twitch, but she didn’t respond. Her heart was pounding, and she took a deep breath before turning to Alistair.

“If there are any mirrors,” she said. “Do not look in them.”

***

“These are interesting markings,” Wynne mused. “They must date back even before Tevinter.”

“Is it possible these ruins are from the time of Arlathan?” Renya murmured, reaching out and touching one of the stone walls. They were in the middle of a cavernous room deep within the ancient Elvhen ruins, next to a small pool with an earthen jug in it. Merrill would have loved to be here.

Renya sighed. Only another day or so, and she’d be able to tell Merrill what she had seen during her travels. Maybe Merrill would even come with them. She ignored the little voice in the back of her mind asking what that would mean for her and Leliana.

“What is this?” Leliana asked, reaching into the pool and pulling the jug out. Immediately the lights – which until now had been unnoticed torches on the walls – dimmed. Ghostly figured appeared and attacked, wailing and howling at the travelers, screeching in Dalish. One reached out of the pool and grabbed Leliana, pulling her in.

“Renya!”

The Warden, who was busy fighting against two of the curiously solid ghosts, looked over in time to see another ghost grab Leliana and begin pulling her into the water. It was Morrigan, oddly enough, who charged over first, casting spells and chanting in an unknown language. And then, wonder of wonders, she grabbed Leliana’s outstretched hand and pulled her to safety.

Eventually the ghosts were defeated and the torches burned brightly again. Renya went over to where Leliana was sitting on the ground panting next to Morrigan, who was crouched next to her and still holding her hands with a disgusted look on her face.

“Are you alright?” Renya asked, offering her hand.

Leliana nodded and finally let go of Morrigan. “Yes, I think so.” She rose and turned to look at Morrigan. The witch was straightening the raven feathers on her shoulder. “Thank you, Morrigan. You saved my life.”

“’Tis a small thing,” Morrigan said. “I am sure the Warden would not want her Orlesian bard to perish in a Dalish temple.”

 _Her Orlesian bard._ Leliana tried not to smile. Mithra looked at Renya, intrigued.

“You command Asha’bellanar’s daughter, too? Are all these humans at your disposal?”

“Well…” Renya looked around at her friends, unsure what to say. The safest answer was yes, but the truthful answer… “They are all helping Alistair and me as we fight the Blight. They are not so much at our disposal as they are our comrades. Our… clan.”

She said the word gently, but it echoed in the silence. Mithra shook her head in confusion, but before she could say anything else, Renya pointed to an altar.

“There are pictures on this.” She squinted at it, and then smiled in understanding. “You must be Dalish,” she murmured, before reaching into the basin and pulling out the jug.

“All my time reading and telling stories, and I forget to look at the pictures,” Leliana said dryly, finally noticing the pictures of the creature with pointed ears.

“I would think a bard would be more observant,” Sten offered. Leliana sighed.

Silently, Renya put the jug of water on the alter before kneeling and offering a prayer to the creators. She then rose, took a sip from the jug, and dumped the remaining water back into the fountain. A loud boom echoed through the room as the stone wall at the other end of the room opened to form two doors into the next room. The companions all listened intently, but the room appeared quiet.

“Shall we?” Renya said. “Hopefully the next room will be quieter than this.”

A low rumble reached their ears.

“If we want quiet, maybe we should turn back,” Shale said wryly.

***

“So much for quieter,” Alistair quipped once the dragon lay dead. Renya nodded, wiping her brow.

“How was there a dragon here?” Nyviel called from where she was healing Sten’s burned arm.

“And how has this creature not destroyed the beasts we are hunting?” the qunari added.

Mithra shook her head, pulling her arrows out of the beast’s hide. “I did not think it was possible for a dragon to remain so well hidden. We would have noticed it in our forest, surely.”

“I do not know,” Renya replied. “I only – wait, do you hear that?”

They all listened intently.

“Yes. What is it?” Mithra asked with a frown.

“It’s coming from over there,” Nyviel added, pointing.

“I hear nothing,” Shale said.

“No, it is… Just there… Yes, it is louder now…” Renya walked over to the room as if in a trance. Mithra followed her.

“It’s strange,” Nyviel murmured.

Sharing a worried look between them, Alistair and Leliana followed the elves. Morrigan, Wynne, Sten, and Shale were behind them. They entered a dark room filled with broken crates and dilapidated bookcases. A tree was growing in the middle of it; it’s branches had pushed through the ceiling, letting in a little sunlight. The elves were looking around, ears twitching as they tried to find the source of the sound only they could hear.

“Is it this?” Renya asked, reaching toward a little vial that had a red liquid in it.

“A phylactery?” Wynne asked. “Why would that be making sounds?”

“I do not know.” The Warden grabbed the vial. Her hand clenched around it and her eyes rolled into the back of her head before she collapsed onto the ground, convulsing.

“Renya!” Nyviel cried, springing forward and trying to grab the vial from her hand. She, too, collapsed in a similar manner.

“No!” Leliana reached toward the elves in a panic. Morrigan smacked her hand away.

“Are you mad?” she hissed. “What good will it do for the three of you to be unconscious on the ground?”

“But-”

A few horrible minutes passed as the little group watched the two elves on the ground, their hands clasped firmly around the phylactery as they flopped on the stones.

“Can’t we do anything?” Leliana murmured at Alistair, wringing her hands together.

“The trembling is stopping, look,” Wynne said, pointing. She was staying a careful distance away from the two elves.

“What are we to do, then?” Sten rumbled from the back of the group. Elgar walked forward and sat down next to his master, watching her and whining.

“Perhaps wait for it to wake up?” Shale offered. “What else can we do, if we cannot smash the horrid little vial from its hands?”

“We could continue,” Mithra suggested. “You two –” She pointed at Sten and Shale. “…could stay to make sure they are safe while the rest of us go and kill the werewolves.”

“If you continue on,” Alistair said angrily, surprising himself. “You do so on your own. We are not going to abandon Renya. Or Nyviel.”

“Perhaps ‘tis not an issue,” Morrigan said, staring at the two elves heaped on the ground. “They are beginning to stir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm...
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	120. Magic Long Past

_Renya stood alone in swirling darkness, feeling alone and imprisoned. How long had it been since she had seen the sunlight? Ages, it seemed. Her brothers and sisters had gone, and now she was the only one remaining. How she craved for someone to release her!_

_Images began swimming in front of her eyes. A glistening city made of crystal, woven between the trees and around the clear, crisp rivers that ran by the streets faded into view. Buildings bent around the cool pools throughout the city. She was standing at the foot of a great marble temple. Elves in green and gold armor stood before her, swords sheathed. Their eyes were kind as they overlooked the scene before them; there was obviously not much need for soldiers in this city. Renya could feel the thrum of magic pulsing as she approached the elves._

_“Andaran atish’an, Elvhen,” she said politely. None of the guards seemed to notice her. She looked up at the great doors and noticed the carvings._

_“A temple to Elgar’nan and Mythal?” she murmured. She looked around at the achingly beautiful city. “Is this… Arlathan?”_

_A deep homesickness filled her, although she could not say why she pined for a life she had never known. She pushed open the doors to the temple and entered._

_Immediately the scene changed. She was in the streets of the city again, except now the trees were burning and humans – mages – were attacking the elves. The Elvhen soldiers fought bravely, magic being focused through their swords. A few wielded dar’thanu, but all seemed to possess the gift of magic._

_Renya watched as the elves were slowly massacred. The elf next to her was thrown high in the air and smashed against the wall of the temple, his blood leaving a grisly trail down the perfect white stones. She pulled her sword from her hip and swung at an approaching human, only for her blade to pass through him. She braced as he charged at her, but he passed through her as easily as her blade had done before, only to clash with another elf behind her._

_Slowly the memory faded and she was left in the swirling darkness again._

_“You saw it, too?” asks a voice from behind her. Renya spun on her heel and saw Nyviel standing behind her, eyes wide. “What was that?”_

_“Memories…” came a hoarse whisper. “I sleep, I remember, I sleep again… ages upon ages I have suffered…”_

_Nyviel had her staff out and Renya, her swords, in an instant._

_“Who are you?” the Warden demanded._

_An elf in glittering silver and green armor stepped forward, face mostly hidden by a helmet. “My name has been lost to the ages…” he said slowly. “All I remember is a glittering city, and then death. I have gone mad, trapped here.”_

_Renya lowered her swords. Her head spun at the idea that this elf’s thoughts might have survived from Arlathan. “Is there anything I can do for you?”_

_“Grant me oblivion.”_

_“But… the Dalish – your people – we could learn so much!” Renya protested._

_“There is an altar,” the elf continued over her. “Place me on it. Grant me peace, Elvhen.” His eyes fell on Nyviel. “You are a mage.”_

_Nyviel gulped. “I am.”_

_“I…” The elf turned his head slightly, as if remembering something. “I remember magic. Swirling, beautiful, warm power. And a sword. As thanks, I could teach you.” He pulled his visor up to reveal blue eyes. They were narrowed in concentration. “Dirth’ena enasalin.”_

_“Arcane warrior,” Renya murmured. It would be a wonderful gift for this knowledge to be returned to the People._

_Nyviel glanced at Renya briefly before nodding. “Yes. Vin. I… I will accept this gift and… and will grant you peace afterwards.” She clenched her jaw, but noticed Renya nod in defeat out of the side of her eye. Of course; Renya would not want to keep any elf imprisoned._

_“Accept my memories, then.” The fog around them swirled more forcefully, and Nyviel was enveloped briefly in golden light, her eyes closed and her hair whipping about her face. The wind slowly faded and Nyviel took a deep breath. The other elf was watching her with a small smile on his face._

_…and now, release me. Let me drink from the waters of oblivion with my brothers and sisters.”_

_“Ma serannas, Elvhen,” Nyviel said, opening her eyes._

_“In uthenera na revas,” Renya murmured, bowing._

***

The fog faded and Renya became aware of the cold stone pressed against her hip and a heavy weight on top of her. She opened her eyes and the stone room swam into view. As she looked around in confusion, she saw Nyviel lying splayed on top of her, clutching the vial still gripped in Renya’s hand. The two elves got up, groaning. Nyviel looked down at her hands in wonder.

“It feels… different,” she said. She looked at Renya, who smiled and handed her the vial. Nyviel looked at her curiously.

“Always keep your promises,” Renya said softly. Nyviel grinned and took the vial from her before walking over to the small stone altar and gently placing it on the stone. Before she released it, she felt a presence in the vial quiver with excitement, and thought she heard a small voice whisper “ma serannas” to her, before the vial touched the stone and shattered.

They all stood silently for a moment.

“What happened to you two?” Alistair murmured. “Renya, what are you doing?”

For Renya had pulled Starfang out of her belt and presented it to Nyviel. Nyviel took it curiously.

“Dirth’ena enasalin used swords to channel their magic,” Renya said. “What better sword than one made from metal that fell from the sky?”

Nyviel pushed the sword back at her. “No, I can’t take this. Renya, you are the Grey Warden…”

“And you are an arcane warrior now,” Renya replied simply.

Nyviel took a deep breath, then closed her eyes and focused on channeling her magic into the sword, instead of into her staff. It flowed easily, and she gave the sword an experimental swing. She was met with a loud crash.

“Whoa!”

Nyviel opened her eyes and saw her companions on the ground, some grumbling as they rose. The bookcases were demolished, as if hit by a powerful force.

“Also,” said Renya, rising from where she had ducked. “I might suggest keeping your eyes open if you are going to swing a sword. I like my head where it is.” But she smiled.

“Oops. Sorry.”

They left the room, Mithra questioning Renya about what had happened. The two lapsed into Dalish as Renya described what she had seen. Mithra looked impressed and disappointed.

“It is too bad he did not remember more,” she said, returning to the common tongue. “His knowledge would have been a great asset to the People.”

“It would have,” Renya agreed.

“Warden, ahead,” Sten warned.

Indeed, they were met with skeletons and tall, sword-wielding demons in the next room. Elgar howled as his master drew her swords with a florish and began twirling through the advancing horde. Mithra and Leliana stood side-by-side, raining down arrows, while the others attacked.

Nyviel, still holding Starfang, looked down at it in apprehension and took a deep breath. A shield. She narrowed her eyes; something was telling her how to construct a shield.

In a moment, a bubble of telekinetic energy surrounded her and she felt her magic surge into the sword. She smiled. She could do this.

Renya looked up in time to see Nyviel charge the tallest demon, her protective barrier easily blocking his attacks while she hacked at his chest, holding the sword awkwardly with both of her hands. Renya smiled to herself before turning and finishing off the skeleton bearing down on her. After they were back at the Dalish camp, she would have to show her how to use a sword properly.

A howl announced the approach of werewolves.

“Why aren’t they fighting the demons?” Renya demanded, dodging away from the snap of massive jaws and immediately turning to cut off a skeleton’s head.

Elgar lunged at the werewolf, attacking until the beast lay dead on the ground, before turning and running off to defend the mages. Renya followed him.

Soon all the creatures lay dead. Mithra limped over to Renya.

“And still you think these monsters can be reasoned with?” she asked. Wynne came over and the elf accepted the mage’s healing. “You have become soft, living in the comfort of human cities.”

Renya clenched and unclenched her jaw rapidly. While her Dalish side screamed for the werewolves to be exterminated – they had hurt the People and brought a curse to them – her Warden side demanded she remain objective. In all of her recent wanderings, she had not yet met someone who was either all bad or all good – perhaps with the exception of Loghain or the mysterious Howe that Zevran had mentioned – so why should she now assume the werewolves were evil, even though that is what the hahren told her? She felt nauseous at the thought.

 _Besides,_ she thought stubbornly. _They talk._

“Let’s keep going.”

They came to a wooden door, behind which they all could hear snuffling and growling.

“I think we found the beasts’ lair,” Shale said, rolling her massive shoulders.

“We are not to attack if they do not attack us,” Renya said.

“What?” Mithra cried. “They have already attacked first!”

“You attack, you will be on your own,” Renya replied, clenching her jaw again. “Dalish are supposed to be better than shemlen, yes?” She noted the returned use of the slur and inwardly cringed, but continued anyway. “So we will not attack in anger.”

Mithra’s lips twitched into the hint of a snarl but she nodded grudgingly.

The doors swung open and they were met with the werewolf who had greeted them in the forest.

“Stop, brothers and sisters,” he growled at the werewolves behind him. “Be at ease. We do not wish to see any more of our people hurt.” He looked back at Renya. “Is the creature willing to parley?”

“I am willing to talk, yes,” Renya said. The werewolf surveyed her.

“Not with me.” The werewolf pointed to another door. “I have been sent to you on behalf of the Lady. She believes that you may not be aware of everything you should be.” He glared at Renya and the party for a moment. “She means you no harm, provided your willingness to parley in peace is an honest one.”

“I have been willing to talk since the beginning.”

The werewolf grunted. “Swiftrunner did not think you could be trusted. But it is clear to the Lady that if we do not do as you wish and talk, then you will fight your way in and try to take that which Zathrian the Accursed has sent you for without all information.”

Renya stepped forward and offered her empty hands.

“Very well,” she said. “Take us to this Lady.”

***

Werewolves created a pathway for them to walk through, growling at them as they passed. Close to fifty beasts were there, all glaring. Renya had steered Alistair to the front with her and pointedly elbowed Mithra aside when she tried to walk next to the Wardens. Leliana frowned at the glare Mithra leveled at the two.

The room opened up, or rather, opened into a warm circle smelling of earth and trees and grass. If they hadn’t been surrounded by the werewolves, Renya would have immediately felt at ease. But nothing compared to the figure standing in the middle of the womb-like room.

Before them stood a woman, her eyes dark and deep like pools of water at night, and her hair twirled around her like branches in the wind. Her long fingers were reminiscent of twigs on trees, and her voice was low and motherly and resonated with many tones, like the hum of the very earth itself. She was a mother, a father, a sibling. She was the forest – beautiful yet terrible, evenhanded yet cruel.

“I bid you welcome, mortal,” she said. “I am the Lady of the Forest.”

Renya closed her mouth, which had been hanging open, and bowed deeply. She rose amid approving snuffles of the werewolves. “I am Renya Mahariel, my Lady. Of the Sabrae clan – now a Grey Warden.”

“Yes, Warden. I know who you are. I also know what you are. A being of this earth, yet one cursed to not truly live within it. I know this because we are the same. But this is not how this conversation starts, mortal.”

Renya took a deep breath, her mind already churning from the Lady’s mention of her place in – or outside of – the world. She swallowed. “What did you wish to talk about, my Lady?”

“You must have questions,” she said gently. “Surely you have guessed that Zathrian has kept much from you.”

“How dare you!” Mithra exclaimed. “The hahren has given so much for his people, and you dare –”

“Atisha, Mithra,” Renya said warningly. “We will hear what the Lady has to say.”

“I thank you, Warden,” the Lady replied in her same even tone.” Her dark eyes hardened. “It was Zathrian who created the curse that these creatures now suffer…”

“What?” said Renya and Mithra together.

“Yes, a long time ago…” The Lady shook her head sadly. “Zathrian had a family. Children he love dearly. One day, they were in the forest collecting elfroot, and a band of humans appeared on the road. They saw the young elves, and pulled their horses to a stop. The young elves tried to run, but the humans were bigger, and faster. They brutalized the children, tortured them. Their cries reached the forest, but no help came. Eventually their cries were silenced, but not before Zathrian heard them and tried to rescue them.”

Renya crossed her arms and noticed Mithra shaking her head, pulsing her jaw rapidly.

“Alas, the children perished. Zathrian, his grief great, cursed the humans and made them beasts. He pulled me from the Beyond to ensure their suffering. These are they,” the Lady continued, indicating the werewolves around them. “They only wish for freedom, to return to their homelands, but Zathrian refuses. We have asked, but he does not listen. And so we have used more aggressive means…”

“By spreading your curse to the Dalish?” Mithra asked.

“The Dalish first spread the curse to us,” the werewolf called Swiftrunner said. “See, my Lady? They do not wish to help us. We must kill them all!”

“Peace, Swiftrunner. If we cannot show them we are not animals, how will they ever believe?” She smiled at Renya. “I apologize for Swiftrunner. He struggles with his nature.”

Renya nodded stiffly. “As do we all, my Lady.”

The Lady’s smile widened. “A wise observation, but few have struggled as much as these creatures have. I have tried to help them… Help them regain their minds.”

“She is good to us,” Swiftrunner said. “She has helped us. Given us our names. We owe her our lives.”

“And so, mortal,” the Lady said, fixing her eyes on Renya again. “We ask that you bring Zathrian here so we may show him we are not the beasts he once thought us.”

Renya sighed, thinking. “And if he does not come?”  
The Lady smiled knowingly. “He will come.” She closed her eyes. “He will come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Here we go!  
> Also, you guys have been with Renya and her friends for 120 chapters, and I love you all for that. So thank you.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	121. Blood of the People

Renya’s head was throbbing as they exited the chamber. She wished she could talk to her friends without Mithra.

“Hahren,” Mithra said with surprise as they walked into the center of the large stone room. “What are you doing here?”

“You carved a safe path through the forest, da’len. Safe enough for me to follow, anyhow,” Zathrian replied.

Morrigan laughed. “He wishes to see if we have done his work for him!” She glared at the elf, matching his expression. “Is that not why you are here, sorcerer?”

“Do not call me that,” Zathrian said quietly, but the air trembled with power. Renya sighed. This was not going to be pleasant. The keeper looked at her, his eyes bright and kind again. “I am the keeper of this clan, and have done what I must. Did you acquire the heart?”

“She wished to parlay with the monsters, Hahren. We did not complete the task.” Mithra was fuming and stepped in front of Renya. “There is a Lady of the Forest who speaks for these beasts… She told us things that you have not, Hahren. She… wishes to speak with you,” she added tentatively.

Zathrian exploded then, as if having waited years to expound on the double-sided nature of Witherfang, how she modeled herself as a woman, but truly held the nature of a beast.

“Do you not see?” he ranted in Dalish. “She is Witherfang. And Witherfang is the Lady of the Forest!”

“Yes, I assumed they were the same, but I did not know they were made from a summoned spirit!” Renya returned, in her anger not noticing her disrespect toward the keeper. No wonder the veil was thin in the Brecilian forest. How long had Zathrian been holding the Lady here?

But Zathrian was now pacing in his fury. “You don’t know what it was like!” he yelled in Dalish. “My children! My children! They did… horrible things. My daughter…!”

“Atisha. Enough,” Renya said, holding up her hand. Her heart jumped as she heard herself command the hahren to be silent. She never would have dared command Marethari as a simple hunter. “You must come with us. You must come and meet the creature you have created.”

Alistair and Leliana looked from Renya to Zathrian to Mithra and back again. They didn’t know what was being said, but whatever Renya had interjected caused Mithra’s glare to intensify and Zathrian to stammer to a halt, looking stunned.

“And if I come with you,” Zathrian replied, switching back to the common tongue. “Will you ensure my safety?”

“Yes,” Renya said emphatically. “If they mean you harm, I will protect you.”

“That is enough, then,” Zathrian said after a moment. “I will come with you. And I will force the Lady into Witherfang’s form. And then you will keep your promise.”

Renya sighed. She had hoped that meeting the Dalish would be like a homecoming for her, but it had, like so much else during this journey, wound up a nightmare.

***

Zathrian entered the chamber without hesitation, Renya and Mithra behind him, and the others following after that. He did not seemed bothered at all by the number of werewolves around him, instead keeping his eyes focused on the lady.

There had almost been trouble with Zathrian began berating the Lady, challenging her very existence and insulting the werewolves, insisting they were no more than beasts who could never overcome their nature.

“But they were once humans,” Leliana whispered to Renya.

“That will not help the Lady’s argument,” Renya murmured back. “Not to a Dalish.” She smiled humorlessly. “Remember when I said _I_ was merciful?”

“But look,” the Lady was saying. “They only wish for peace. To return home. To be the creatures they were born to be.”

“They are twisted, wretched monsters! Their horrific shape only mirrors their monstrous hearts!”

The Lady shook her head and held up her hand as the werewolves began to snarl.

“He will not help us, my Lady,” Swiftrunner growled. “It is as I warned you. He is not here to talk.”

“That is true,” Zathrian said, his kind eyes turning hard. “I am not here to talk. I am here for Witherfang’s heart.”

“He has come to kill you, Lady!”

“Do you see? They are monsters. Keep your promise, da’len!” Zathrian cried, turning to Renya.

The Lady turned her gaze onto Renya, her dark eyes sad. “And what of you, Warden? Do you support Zathrian? Even after all you have heard?”

“She is Dalish,” Mithra snarled, by way of responding. But the Lady – and thankfully, the werewolves – ignored her.

Leliana stepped forward and started to put her hand on Renya’s shoulder, but withdrew at the last moment, remembering Renya’s warning. The elf was shaking slightly, and Leliana could only imagine the internal battle occurring as Renya was forced to choose between defending the Dalish and defending those who had once been humans. Humans who had epitomized everything the Dalish hated about humans.

“I…” she faltered, swallowing.

_“Have they made you a flat-ear? Shemlen-lover…”_

“I…”

_“I know you will do your clan proud, da’len…”_

“I want a peaceful solution,” she said softly. “We… we all do things in anger, but must strive to make it correct when we realize what we have done.”

The Lady smiled, but Zathrian turned on her, betrayed.

“There can be no peace! We both know this. Their nature compels them, as does mine.”

The Lady stepped forward. “It does not have to be that way. There is room in your heart for compassion, Zathrian. Surely, your retribution is spent?”

Zathrian clenched his jaw. “My retribution is eternal, spirit, as is my pain. This is justice, and nothing more.”

“Are you certain your pain is the only reason you will not end this curse?” the Lady asked. She looked back at Renya. “Have you told the mortal how it was created?”

Zathrian stayed silent, bt Mithra spoke on his behalf. “He said you are a spirit from the Beyond. He bound you here, in a wolf.”

The Lady nodded. “Witherfang and I are bound as one being, but such magic cannot be done without Zathrian’s own blood.” She shook her head sadly as she turned back to Zathrian. “Your people think you have rediscovered the secret to immortal life, but this is not true. So long as the curse exists, so does he.”

A long silence followed this.

“You lied to us?” Mithra asked.

“No, I–” Zathrian began. But he changed his mind. “You turn them against me, spirit, with your lies and deceit!” And he attacked.

Confusion reigned as the Dalish keeper, the witch of the wilds, the Circle mage, and the arcane warrior all began casting spells. Werewolves howled, mixed with the snarling of Elgar and with Alistiar and Sten’s matched bellows as they defended against the attacking beasts. Shale pushed her way through the crowd, trying to extract Renya from the middle, but in the confusion instead plucked the Lady of the Forest to safety intead.

“Oh,” she said evenly, placing the Lady down. “I apologize to it.”

Renya, meanwhile, had pushed Leliana out of the way a little harder than she intended, knocking the bard down as Mithra sprang at her.

“This is your fault!” the elf cried in Dalish, shoving Renya into a wall. “If you had just killed Witherfang, Sathrian could have cured our People!”

“Were you not listening?” Renya yelled back above the commotion, flipping Mithra around so their positions were reversed. “He lied to our People!”

“The shemlen killed his children! They attack us! They deserve every punishment they receive, and more! You know this, seth’lin!” Mithra kicked out and knocked Renya’s legs out from under her. Renya, who had pulled her dar’misu, found it knocked out of her hand as she fell. It clattered into a basin full of green, steaming liquid. Mithra pulled out her hunting knife and pressed it against Renya’s throat.

“You would kill another elf?” Renya asked incredulously, holding on to Mithra’s arm.

“You would kill our keeper?”

“Mithra, listen to me,” Renya said as Mithra firmly pushed the blade into her. “Sathrian lied. He cursed the humans; they may have deserved it, but he lied about his power. His hatred is what is keeping him alive, not the power of our ancestors.”

Mithra blinked, tears forming in her eyes.

“He was like my father… He wouldn’t lie…”

“Ir abelas, asa’ma’lin…”

Mithra gulped and released the tension on her knife a little before gasping and slumping forward onto Renya. Renya pushed her off in confusion, only to see her dar’misu deep in Mithra’s side. Leliana was kneeling next to her, looking horrified.

“She was… she was going to kill you…” Leliana murmured.

Renya’s eyes were wide and her breathing was shallow. “Wynne!” she cried, not knowing if the battle had finished or not. But Wynne appeared.

“What – oh!” She was immediately crouched at Mithra’s side. “What happened?”

“It happened too fast,” Renya said, unable to come up with a better lie quickly enough. “Please, Wynne, can you help her?”

“I shall try.” She pulled the knife out and looked at it. “What is this on the blade?”

Renya caught Leliana’s guilty look at a basin standing nearby. Wynne also saw the glance and sighed. “We will have to get her back to the Dalish quickly,” she said.

The battle, then, had finished. Zathrian was kneeling on the ground, holding onto his staff and panting. Renya strode over, her leather armor stained with the blood of one of the People.

“I would do anything for the justice of my children!” the keeper gasped.

“My Lady, we can simply kill him,” Swiftrunner offered.

“No, Swiftrunner, we will not kill him,” the Lady replied. “If there is no room in our hearts for mercy, how can we expect there to be room in his?”

“Have you done all this for your children, Hahren?” Renya asked now, trying to ignore Mithra’s gasping breaths. “Would your children be proud of what their father has done?”

Zathrian sighed and stood. “You shame me, da’len.” He looked at the Lady of the Forest. “And what of you, spirit? You are bound to the curse just as I am. Do you not fear your end?”

The Lady stepped closer to him and cupped his chin gently with her long fingers. “You are my maker, Zathrian. You gave me form and consciousness where non existed. I have known pain and love, hope and fear… all the joy that is life. Yet of all these things, I desire nothing more than an end. I beg you, maker: put an end to me. We beg you: show mercy.”

“Ah, and the spirit shames me, as well,” Zathrian said sadly. “Pehaps you are right. I sought vengeance in my anger, and you wish for peace for yourself and your wards.” He sighed. “I am an old man, alive long past my time. Perhaps it is for the best that mortals do not possess the power or the knowledge to exact their vengeance in this way.”

He looked at Renya, his eyes kind once again. “My children… would not have wanted this. They suffered, and would not want others to suffer. I see now how blind I was, and for so long.

“I will end your curse, Lady. I pray that it is enough.” He brought his staff up and slammed it onto the ground. “I end this curse. I need only your permission, Lady.”

“You have it, my maker,” the Lady replied, stepping forward and taking his face gently in her hands. “Let us end this.”

They were enveloped in a blinding white light that endured for merely moments, and when it disappeared, the Lady was nowhere to be seen and Zathrian was lying, unmoving, on the ground.

“We’re… human again!”

Where werewolves had stood were now fifty or so humans, looking wild and disheveled, but elated.

The man who had once been called Swiftrunner ran up to them. “I cannot believe this. Thank you, Warden! I did not think it was possible! We are returned! Come!” he called to the men and women standing around him. “Let us go and find our human lives again!” His smile widened as he looked at human faces he hadn’t seen in ages, and some he had never seen at all.

As they made their way out, each grasping Renya’s hands happily, the Warden found her attention pulled more and more toward Mithra, still lying on the ground next to Wynne.

It was a difficult situation. They had to return to the camp, but could not leave either Mithra or Zathrian’s body. How was she going to explain the death of the Keeper? Hopefully the sick elves would be better, which would help. But what of Mithra? The clan would make Leliana pay for her crime before Renya or anyone else had a chance to intervene. And a shemlen attacking a Dalish was a capital offense. She swallowed.

“Renya, we must get her back to the camp,” Wynne said again, rising. “She is safe for the moment, but I can only promise that.”

Renya turned to Sten. “Sten?”

“You wish me to carry the treacherous elf, Kadan?”

“She is not treacherous,” Renya said sternly. “And yes.”

“I will do as you ask.”

“Perhaps it wants me to carry the dead elf?” Shale said now. “Of course. Because I will not be able to smell it.”

They hurried out of the chamber, Renya noticing that for all of his bluster, Sten held Mithra gently.

“We must get back to the camp. We cannot delay. Can you walk all night?” Renya asked Sten.

“Yes, I can do this.”

“Then let us leave.” She turned to her companions. “And do not tell anyone of what has happened here, not until you have spoken again to me.” Her eyes lingered on Leliana’s for a moment, but the bard looked away. Renya turned to Nyviel. “They will ask you, since you are an elf. Do not answer.”

“Ma nuvenin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that just happened...
> 
> ...and I _promise_ to be back in the next day or so with another chapter. I've been remiss, and I thank you for sticking with me.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	122. Unexpected

As it was, Renya, Sten, Shale, and Elgar arrived at the camp very early the next morning, and the rest of the companions arrived that evening, apparently not having rested for long. They were greeted by another warrior.

“Andaran atish’an, travelers,” he said, eyeing them with suspicion. Another one of the hunters turned to him.

“These are the ones Hahren Lanaya told us about,” she said darkly.

“Oh.” He glared at the travelers. “Enter, then, shemlen.” He turned to Nyviel. “The keeper wanted to see you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I suggest you do not keep her waiting.”

The party entered the camp. It was very subdued, the news of Zathrian having traveled through the camp. Even the return of the hunters to full health didn’t eclipse the sorrow at the loss of a keeper who had led the clan for ages.

Another elf was crying, holding a scarf to himself. “My poor Danyla…”

They broke off, Alistair to find Zevran and Oghren, Wynne to help the healers, Morrigan to be by herself, Nyviel to find the keeper, and Leliana to find Renya.

She found the elf standing next to one of the healers, offering her dar’misu. The healer was frowning at it. Lanaya stood nearby, arms crossed, as the healer questioned Renya.

“You dipped the blade into the poison before all of the fighting happened?”

Leliana hesitated going any closer.

“No,” Renya said, not meeting the healer’s eyes. “Mithra and I were struggling. I was holding the dar’misu. As I tried to get away, it fell in.”

“And you managed to get it out again while she was on top of you?”

A pause. “I am unfortunately well-practiced in fighting for my life.”

“Hm. And then you stabbed her.”

“Yes. I… I thought she meant to kill me.” Renya warded off a jaw-clench. She had no idea how she was going to maintain this story if Mithra woke up; the other elf seemed like she was going to release her when Leliana, not understanding what was being said, stabbed her.

“You attacked one of the Elvhen,” Lanaya said. “I’ve heard stories about you, Renya Mahariel. This doesn’t seem like something you’d do.”

Her gaze fell on Leliana, who tried to not look uncomfortable.

“Perhaps you were defending your friends?”

“No. No, it was my mistake. I panicked. It is my responsibility alone.”

“A seasoned Dalish hunter panicking that another Dalish would kill her?” Lanaya continued, her eyes narrowed. She shook her head. “You know what the punishment is for attacking another Dalish.”

Renya clenched her jaw and hung her head. “Yes.”

Leliana stepped forward. “Please, Lanaya, it was –”

“But in light of the service you have done for this clan,” Lanaya said heavily. “I am inclined to believe the confused situation that you spoke of. And the clan will not banish you.”

Renya nodded, her jaw still set. “Thank you, Hahren.”

“Call me Lanaya. But, to other business,” Lanaya said, indicating Nyviel, who had quietly walked over while they had been talking. “Your friend said she in interested in undergoing her vallaslin ceremony?”

Renya managed to send Nyviel a small smile. “She did?”

“Yes. I think under the circumstances that can be arranged. Especially in light of what she has told me about… her vision.”

Renya’s grin widened. Nyviel, too, looked pleased.

“Ma serannas,” was all she said.

“However,” Lanaya continued, looking at Leliana. “Your human friends will not be able to stay in the camp. We wish to hold a funeral for Zathrian, and the vallaslin ceremony is not something we want outsiders spectating.”

Leliana was about to protest until she saw Renya nodding. “How long?”

“Three days.”

“What?” Leliana gasped.

“Ma nuvenin,” Renya replied.

***

The next morning, the non-elven companions prepared to leave the camp.

“You will be safe,” Meviel assured them. “The creatures of the forest do not bother the Dalish camps, and give us wide berths. They respect us as we do them. And the werewolves are gone now.”

Renya walked them to the entrance, passing the halla pens.

“Look at them,” Leliana commented. “It’s like they know how special they are.”

“They are very special to the Dalish,” Renya commented, rubbing the vallaslin on her nose. They reached the entrance of the camp.

“Well… see you in three days,” Renya said awkwardly.

“Right. Well, yes. See you then,” Alistair replied before marching off, the rest of the party following him.

“Renya…” Leliana murmured as the others left. “I…”

“Atisha, Leliana,” Renya said, placing her hand on Leliana’s shoulder and offering a wavering smile. “I will see you soon.”

***

Two days passed uneventfully. The Dalish mourned the loss of their keeper, and acknowledged that Lanaya was now the new hahren. The second night marked the night of Nyviel’s vallaslin ceremony, and the younger elf sat next to Renya looking very nervous.

“The hardest part is knocking on the door,” Renya heard herself say. She closed her eyes in disbelief.

Nyviel took it in stride. “Really? That’s good. I was afraid the hardest part was going to be when they carve a whole bunch of markings into my skin.” She tried and failed to laugh.

“You will be fine, Nyviel. You have come this far with Grey Wardens. You can be an adult in the eyes of the Dalish.”

“And I can’t make any sounds?”

“Right.”

“What if…?”

“It is time to go, Nyviel,” Renya said, pointing at the setting sun. She offered the elf another smile. “You can do this.”

“Did you talk to anyone before you went for your vallaslin?”

Renya smiled. “Tamlen snuck over to the hahren’s aravel, but otherwise, just my mother.”

“What did she do?”

“She-”

“Will you just pretend? I… I’m really missing my family right now.”

Renya looked at the younger elf with a sad smile, but closed her eyes and tried to remember what Ashalle had done all those years ago. She rose, and Nyviel followed her. Taking the younger elf’s hand awkwardly, she led her over to Lanaya’s aravel.

“I am proud of you, da’len,” she said kindly, returning Nyviel’s smile. She hesitated, but then leaned forward and kissed Nyviel’s forehead in a very businesslike manner, feeling odd that this was the last time she would see it clear of markings. “Until tomorrow, then, da’len.”

Nyviel nodded. “Ma serannas.” She took a deep breath, turned, and knocked on the door.

Renya walked back to the campfire, now burning a little brighter since evening was falling. Someone passed her a bowl of wine, and Renya drank deeply, lost in thought.

“That one shemlen is fond of you,” Meviel observed, sitting next to Renya.

Renya took another sip of wine, forcing herself to look unconcerned. “Who?”

Meviel laughed. “The only one who follows you around like a baby halla,” she replied, slipping into Dalish. “With the red hair.”

“We’re friends, yes.”

Meviel smiled and nudged her shoulder. “I think I’m not the only one you have used to forget Merrill.”

“What?”

“Come on, Renya. You think I didn’t know your heart was still hers? It didn’t matter how much I liked you, it never did. You were hers from when we were small fledglings. Ever since that time you defended her against Alinar when he took the hahren’s book.”

Renya sat quietly.

“She doesn’t know, does she?”

“There’s nothing for her _to_ know. Not anymore,” Renya said, ignoring the knot in her stomach as she subconsciously touched the blue scarf still encircling her neck.

“Ma nuvenin,” Meviel replied with a shake of her head. Her son came over and leaned against her.

“Mamae, is it time to go to sleep, yet?”

Meviel kissed him. “Yes, da’len. Let’s go.” She rose and patted Renya’s shoulder. “Melava somniar, falon.”

“Melava somniar.”

Renya listened as Meviel walked away with her son, staring into the fire and letting her mind wander.

_“Give it back!” The young elf jumped up and down as she tried to catch the book being tossed high over her head. The other elves simply laughed at her._

_“But you never come out and play. What, are you too good for us?” one said nastily as he caught the book and threw it to one of his friends._

_“Don’t you like playing with us?” asked the elf who caught the book. She gave Merrill a serious look as the young mage turned to her desperately._

_“No, I don’t!”_

_The elf tisked at her. “See? You’re so mean, and then you expect us to be nice to you….” She tossed the book again._

_“That’s Hahren Marathari’s! Give it back!”_

_“Hey, Meviel, can you believe that she’s going to be the first one day?”_

_“You are?” Meviel asked, catching the book as it was tossed to her. She watched Merrill nod slowly. “Oh. Well…” She glanced down at the book in her hands thoughtfully._

_“Please, please give it back…” Merrill begged, her hands outstretched. “Please…”_

_“Meviel, come on. Pass it here!” one of the other elves called. Meviel looked up, considering._

_“Yeah, come on. If you don’t pass it, you’re a shemlen!”_

_Meviel looked back at Merrill. Merrill’s eyes widened hopefully as Meviel glanced between her and the book a few times._

_“No!” Merrill cried as Meviel threw the book to the elf across from her. Merrill jumped, but the book’s arc was too high._

_It wasn’t fair, Merrill thought horribly as she tried to retrieve the keeper’s book. She had been given to the Sabrae only a year ago, never to see her family again. It was so different here than in Nevarra. None of the elves were nice to her; that was why she stayed with Marathari, because at least the hahren, while stern, was kind._

_She felt her anger bubbling inside her, and tried to suppress it._

_“Len’alas lath’din!” one of the young boys cried as she lunged for the book in his hands. “Len’alas lath’din!”_

_The fledglings began chanting._

_“Len’alas lath’din! Len’alas lath’din! Len’alas –”_

_Something erupted from Merrill, knocking all the children backwards. She stood in the center of the circle of collapsed elves, breathing heavily with tears running down her cheeks._

_“I’m not!” she yelled._

_The fledglings were scrambling to their feet and beginning to run away._

_“What are you so upset about? It was just a joke,” one of the young girls said before throwing the book at Merrill. Merrill tried to catch it but the girl hadn’t thrown it hard enough, and the book landed in the dirt. Soon Merrill was left alone, and she fell to her knees, burying her face in her hands and beginning to sob. She just wanted to go home._

_“Hey.”_

_Merrill looked up warily. Another fledgling around her age was walking toward her. Her green eyes were focused on Merrill with concern. As the elf came closer, Merrill scooted away. The other elf stopped._

_Are you okay?” the other elf asked._

_Merrill nodded. The other elf raised an eyebrow, and then reached out her hand toward her. Merrill withdrew._

_The other elf pulled her hand back, watching Merrill carefully. Merrill looked away, wishing this elf would leave her alone._

_“Don’t-!” she began when the elf picked up the book from the dirt. She stopped when the elf offered it to her. Without saying anything, she snatched the book out of the other elf’s hands._

_“Ir abelas,” the other elf said. She tilted her head a little as Merrill looked away. “Is the book okay?”_

_“It’s fine. Go away!” Merrill didn’t like how the others teased her, but was more afraid of this elf who was being nice to her. She was sure the elf was just waiting to do something mean._

_“Vin,” said a voice behind them. “Come and play with us.”_

_“Nae, it’s okay, I’m talking to… her,” the elf replied awkwardly, realizing she didn’t know the other elf’s name. The meeting of the clans had happened just the previous season, and new elves were living with the Sabrae now._

_“Come on. Leave the lath’din alone!”_

_Merrill sunk into the ground a little more, but the other elf spun on her heel._

_“Tel’sil’dirtha, Alinar! Don’t tell me what to do!”_

_“Ooo, are you saotem, now?” Alinar teased, making kissing noises as he walked closer. Merrill hugged the book to her chest as the other elf stood firmly between her and the advancing elf, arms crossed._

_The two elves stood glaring at each other for a few moments, until Alinar kicked the dirt between them. The other elf frowned in confusion. It wasn’t until she heard Merrill’s coughing that she realized what he had done. She glanced behind her and saw Merrill wiping her eyes furiously while still holding the book. Alinar grinned._

_The next thing he knew, Alinar found himself on the ground with his arms pinned pinned above his head. Green eyes flashed as they bore into his darker ones, and he tried to pull away as much as he could, but the other elf leaned in, pressing him into the dirt more._

_“Leave. Her. Alone,” she growled, not noticing her possessiveness over an elf she had just met._

_“Let him go.”_

_The elf turned, and Alinar craned his neck to look around the elf on top of him as best as he could. They wore matching disbelief on their faces._

_“Let him go,” Merrill repeated, standing up and not looking at either one of them. “Just… please.”_

_Still looking at Merrill, the elves slowly stood up. Alinar, without another word, ran away._

_“What’s your name?” Merrill asked, still staring at the ground._

_“Renya.”_

_“I’m Merrill.”_

_Realization dawned on Renya’s face. “You’re the new elf from Nevarra. The one who’s Hahren Marathari’s first.” She nodded to Merrill in a little bow of deference. “I didn’t know that. Ir abelas.”_

_“No, no, don’t…” Merrill said, reaching out and touching Renya’s shoulder gingerly before removing her hand. Renya raised her head again._

_“Why are you out here? Aren’t you usually with the hahren?”_

_“I… I wanted to read, but then…”_

_“Renya!” Another elf, this one a little older and with black hair, jogged over. Merrill took an automatic step back, but Renya looked unconcerned._

_“Mamae is looking for you. She was afraid you went into the forest.”_

_“No, I promised her I wouldn’t do that again,” Renya said, looking away._

_“I know. She’s still worried.”_

_“I promised, Nolith,” Renya repeated stubbornly._

_Nolith grinned. “I know. But Mamae was still worried. Let’s go.”_

_“I…” Renya looked at Merrill desperately. “I… Merrill is… was going to read me a story.”_

_“Merrill?” Nolith’s gaze finally settled onto the elf next to Renya. “The first?” He nodded to her. “It’s nice to meet you, finally. I’m Nolith.” He looked back at Renya before Merrill could respond. “I’ll tell Mamae. She’ll be happy to hear you and Merrill are friends.” An odd look passed over his face. “But be back before the evening meal!”_

_“I will.”_

_Merrill turned to Renya as Nolith walked away. “Why would your mother be happy you’re friends with me?”_

_Renya shrugged, unconcerned. “I don’t know. She said something about how my father was the hahren before Marathari and I was supposed to be a mage. But I’m not.” She pointed at the book now tucked carefully under Merrill’s arm. “So will you read me a story?”_

_Merrill blinked. This elf was supposed to be a mage. That meant that she was supposed to be the first, which would have meant Merrill could have stayed with her mother in Nevarra._

_“And your brother isn’t a mage, either?” A little bubble of anger arose in her at Renya and her family._

_Instead of looking offended, Renya just looked confused. “Nolith? Why would he be a mage?”_

_Merrill shook her head. “Your father was the keeper. Neither of his fledglings are mages?”_

_“Oh!” Renya dropped her gaze, looking sad. “Nolith isn’t really my brother. My real mamae is dead. Ashalle was my mamae’s best friend, she says, and that’s why she takes care of me.”_

_In an instant, Merrill’s anger disappeared; this poor elf didn’t have a family here, either. She cleared her throat a little._

_“So… a story?” she offered in an attempt to change the subject. Renya brightened a little._

_“Vin, yes, please.”_

_They walked over to a tree and sat beneath it; Merrill suppressed a smile as Renya sat next to her so their arms touched._

_“What is it about?”_

_“What is what about?”_

_“The book.”_

_Merrill smiled. “It has all Elvhen stories in it. Let’s read this one.” She opened to a page about halfway through the book. “It’s the story of Elgar’nan and Mythal…”_

Renya blinked and returned to the present, her head throbbing and her heart aching. Was it true? Was she merely involved with Leliana in order to distract herself from the fact that she was so far away from Merrill? She took another long drink of her wine, trying to tease apart her feelings.

Her ears twitched. There was a commotion happening at the entrance to the camp, and Renya thought she caught the sound of a very familiar accent among the raised Dalish voices. With her dread rising, she stood and hurried over to where a few hunters were standing guard.

Arguing with Leliana.

“You are not to pass,” the one hunter said crossing his arms firmly in front of him. “Not for another day. You may return tomorrow for the evening meal, and be grateful for that, shemlen.”

“Gentlemen, surely you can at least deliver a message for me?”

“This shemlen – entitled, like the rest of them!”

Leliana listened as they lapsed into Dalish. Renya, too, heard the switch in language and broke into a run, hearing the elves talk about tying Leliana up and leaving her in the forest for the night. She stepped next to one of the hunters.

“Nae. She is with the Wardens. I am sure there is a reason she has not stayed with the others,” she said in the common tongue before turning to Leliana. “Is something wrong?”

“She is disrespecting our traditions!” one of the hunters replied in Dalish. “We must deal with her like any other shemlen in our forest.”

“Vin, the sethlin should be made an example of, so others do not follow. These shemlen have become too bold under your protection, sister.”

“She’s not just some shemlen, she’s here as the a guest of the hahren,” Renya returned angrily.

Leliana, initially pleased at the sudden appearance of Renya, became concerned as the elves gestured at her and began speaking in Dalish again. She only recognized the word “shemlen,” but wasn’t overly concerned until she heard Renya say it, as well. It was little comfort that it was followed by the word “hahren.” Whatever they were talking about may have come from the hahren herself. And whatever they were saying didn’t sound particularly friendly, either. The elves’ voices were rising, and their speech was becoming faster and angrier. More fingers were being jabbed at her, and one of the elves grabbed his hunting knife. She took an impulsive step backwards.

“I will bring her back to the Warden’s camp,” Renya finally said in the common tongue, raising her hands in front of her. “And ensure she does not return until tomorrow evening.”

“How will you –?”

“Because I command her,” Renya said shortly, clenching her jaw. “As I command all in my group.”

That silenced the elves.

“Ma nuvenin, Elvhen,” one of the hunters said, waving a dismissive hand at Leliana. “Return her to the others.”

Renya grunted and grabbed Leliana’s arm, steering her away from the Dalish camp.

“What were you thinking?” she hissed once they were out of earshot.

“I… I thought to come and see you, and…”

“I figured that much. Is something wrong?”

“No,” Leliana replied, stung at Renya’s tone. “I… I wanted to apologize. You must be furious with me. I… I hurt a Dalish elf. That’s… the only thing that would… m-make you mad… you said…”

Renya sighed.

“I am not furious,” she said quietly. “I understand why you did it, but Dalish do not kill each other. You did not know this.”

“What were they going to do to you? The punishment?”

Renya took a deep breath. “Nothing compared to what they would have done to you if they knew the truth,” she said quietly. She shook her head. “It is better they think I have become a flat-ear than think that a human stabbed a Dalish.”

Meviel’s words came back to her. She subconsciously shook her head. No, you don’t risk banishment from the clan for a distraction. Faced with banishment – being stripped of your weapons and armor, turned out from the clan, becoming the enemy of the Elvhen, and being stabbed on sight if you returned - you allow a distraction to be killed.

“Oh, Renya, I…”

“It is fine, Lelia,” Renya said softly. “Just… you must stay at the camp until tomorrow evening. I will not be able to rescue you two times.” She met Leliana’s blue eyes, and her already aching heart broke a little more at the sad look in them. Pulling the bard into a hug, she added, “It is not much longer. It is evune’nira, the celebration of the moon, tomorrow night.” She pulled away a little. “It is a celebration worth staying for.”

Leliana brushed a piece of hair out of Renya’s face, and Renya managed a wavering smile.

“I do love you,” Renya said. Leliana wondered why she sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

“I love you, too,” Leliana replied. She placed a gentle kiss on Renya’s lips, but noted with a little nervous twinge it wasn’t returned. “I will see you tomorrow night, then, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh. Is Renya's heart returning to the People?
> 
>  
> 
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	123. A Land No Longer Hers

The clan was already seated around the campfire preparing for evune’nira by the time the rest of the companions were allowed back into the camp.

“Is this more elven madness?” Sten asked.

Renya smiled. The qunari’s sheer size seemed to afford him a great deal of leeway in the things he said.

“The word you are looking for is celebration, my friend,” Zevran said from where he was sitting next to a pretty young elf on the opposite side of the fire. “And then, yes, you are correct.” The elf next to him giggled.

Morrigan was, again, being fussed over by the elves, her status as Flemeth’s daughter not forgotten in the emotional turmoil of the past few days.

“Yes, yes. I am quite pleased,” she said without emotion. “Now leave me be. I will be more pleased, then.” She caught Renya grinning at her. “’Tis not funny, Warden.”

“And you said you did not have talent for making friends,” the elf whispered as she walked by. Morrigan humphed at her.

Wynne was speaking to the healer; apparently Mithra’s condition had improved, although the elf was still sleeping. She had awoken earlier for a few minutes, and the healer was hopeful that meant she would return in the next day.

“Oh, excuse me,” Leliana said after bumping into an elf she didn’t remember seeing before. The elf grinned at her, her blue eyes twinkling. Leliana gaped. “Nyviel?”

Nyviel nodded, elated. “You didn’t recognize me?”

Leliana took in the elf, now with vallaslin. The intricately-designed tree covered most of her forehead, with a thin line like a trunk traveling partway down her nose. The tree was mirrored in a smaller, upside-down version on her chin.

“You look very… Dalish,” Leliana said with a smile. Nyviel’s grin brightened and she pulled Leliana into a hug.

“I’m so happy! I’ve never felt so welcomed anywhere in my life!” she gushed. She pointed to the markings. “And they are devotion to Mythal.”

“The one who protects the elves, right?” Leliana asked, remembering hearing Renya invoke her time and time again.

“Yes, that’s right. And I’ve been able to practice the arcane arts with Lanaya, too, and Renya has been showing me how to hold a sword properly…” The chatty elf was off, explaining to Leliana all that she had missed in the past few days.

Lanaya came over. “I am impressed that she has such control over her arcane powers already,” she said. “I invited her to stay with us, but she said her place was with the Wardens. We will be sad to see her go. But come, the celebration is about to begin.”

This celebration, Leliana thought, couldn’t have been more different than the celebration of the stars. A few elves picked up instruments and began playing lively, wild, earthy tunes, and the rest of the elves got up to dance. Once the song ended, they sat, listening to Sorrel the storyteller weave a few old Elvhen legends before the music began again. The lyrics were in Dalish, so Leliana didn’t know what they meant, but the music was good.

She found herself pulled into a circling dance, clasping hands with the elves and skipping around the fire. Then the circle broke off and she was passed from elf to elf, sometimes being spun, other times clasping hands and trying to follow along with the intricate footwork.

And always there was more wine. It had grown quite late when Leliana finally collapsed next to a log, smiling as she watched Zevran dancing with the same elf he had been busy charming earlier. Nyviel was clumsily trying to follow a young elf trying to teach her one of the dances, and Leliana couldn’t help but laugh as the few elves who attempted to dance with Alistair winced in pain as he stepped on their toes. Renya moved seamlessly through the crowd, the songs and dances familiar to her. She looked more relaxed and happy than Leliana had ever seen her.

Eventually, though, she sat down next to Leliana. Leliana leaned into her, forgetting herself.

“Too much wine?” Renya asked, carefully pulling her arm out of Leliana’s grasp under the guise of taking another bowl and ignoring Meviel’s stare from across the fire.

“Yes… Maker…”

Renya grinned and stood up. “That means you need to dance more!” she said with a laugh, offering her hands down to Leliana. The bard tried to glare at her, but betrayed herself with a smile.

“I can’t dance anymore. I don’t know the steps.”

“That has never stopped _me,_ ” Renya said, wiggling her fingers in invitation. Leliana finally took her hands and rose.

The music slowed. Renya carefully took Leliana’s hands, looking deep into her eyes, and began to guide her through the steps as the music pulsed around them.

Leliana laughed as she followed Renya. She was a much better dance partner than the other elves, she thought, although she wasn’t sure if it was due to her skill or the fact that Leliana didn’t mind when she misstepped and Renya put a hand out to steady her.

The song sped up, and Renya pulled Leliana closer, holding her hand and wrapping her arm around the bard’s waist before they began to rotate on the spot, faster and faster. Renya spun Leliana and then began rotating them in the opposite direction, singing along with the music. Eventually the song ended, and Leliana and Renya leaned into each other, laughing. In a moment of clarity, Renya looked around at the rest of the clan, but most of them had been so involved in the dancing that they no longer seemed to mind the presence of these humans who willingly participated in their customs and seemed eager to learn the dance, as it were. Renya relaxed a little and guided Leliana over to a seat again.

The night wore on, and the celebration continued until the small hours of the morning. A few times Leliana tried to return to the aravel, but Renya always found an excuse to continue talking to her by the fire. Eventually Leliana realized that this was the only way she and Renya would be able to pass the night together, and stopped resisting. Soon they were the only ones left by the fire, and Leliana let herself lean into Renya, snuggling into her shoulder a little, enjoying the feel of the linen Dalish robes. It was a nice change from the leather or metal armor she usually found herself leaned against.

“Melava somniar, Lelia,” Renya breathed.

“Goodnight, my love.”

***

They woke early the next day, mostly because Renya did not think the unwavering goodwill toward the humans would extend to the morning, nor extend to a human asleep beside an elf. Renya ducked into the aravel and changed into her leather armor before being enlisted to go out with a hunting party.

Leliana nodded sleepily when Renya told her where she was going. She pulled herself to her feet and walked back to the aravel she had been sharing, only to find Alistair and Morrigan up, looking similarly exhausted.

“I do not know how these elves function with no sleep,” Morrigan said as the clan awoke and began their day.

“It’s not fair, really,” Alistair agreed with a yawn.

Half the day had passed by the time the hunters returned. Renya presented something to Master Varathorn, who took it with surprise and a little bow of thanks. She walked across the camp toward Leliana, only to be invited into Meviel’s aravel for the afternoon meal. Nyviel was similarly flagged down.

Leliana, meanwhile, found herself next to Morrigan, again enduring the elves’ attention, and Zevran, much more comfortable with the attention he was receiving. She finished eating quickly, having no desire to sit near Morrigan or continue to endure Zevran’s flirtations, and wandered over to the aravel where neither Nyviel, Renya, or Meviel had exited yet. She paused outside the door and listened, hand poised to knock.

“And you are wearing her scarf,” came Meviel’s voice. “That is what that is, yes? I remember she refused to take it off after you left.”

“Must we talk about this again?” Renya sounded annoyed.

Leliana’s eyes narrowed. Perhaps she was about to find out what had been causing Renya’s odd behavior.

“I am saying that you should listen to what I said before,” Meviel replied.

“I am done here. I will not be lectured by you,” Renya said angrily. “Regardless of what you thought about me, you could have told me you were with Abelard, and yet you did not, not until I found you in the forest.” Leliana heard the sound of someone rising angrily and knocking into something wooden. “You have no right to tell me what is best for me.”

Leliana managed to jump out of the way in time and crouch behind a statue of a wolf as Renya stormed out of the aravel, followed by Nyviel. Neither elf noticed her. She stayed hidden for a few minutes, peeking around the statue and waiting until she was sure Renya and Nyviel were involved with a group of small elves before rising.

She stepped out from her hiding place and knocked on the now-open door. Meviel, who was replacing a bowl onto a little table, looked up at the sound. A guarded look passed over her face.

“Yes?”

“Whose scarf is it?”

“Ir tel’him?”

“Whose scarf is it?” Leliana asked again, entering and shutting the door.

Meviel considered Leliana carefully. When she didn’t speak, Leliana continued.

“She found it in a clearing where her clan once lived. She’s been upset ever since.”

Meviel chuckled sadly and walked past Leliana, opening the door again and pointing. “She is always sad now. Can you not see it?”

Leliana followed Meviel’s finger to where Renya was now standing, talking with some of the fledglings and waving her arms as if telling a story. She was laughing.

“She looks fine.”

Meviel sighed and shut the door again. “You humans do not notice anything,” she said easily. She indicated that Leliana should sit on one of the cushions on the floor. “Her eyes. Her eyes are always sad now. I remember how they used to look.” Meviel shook her head.

“She is quite unreadable,” Leliana said stubbornly, becoming a little angrier when Meviel smiled knowingly.

“To you, perhaps. To an elf, she is quite readable.” She sat down comfortably and looked up at Leliana. “I would imagine that Nyviel is much better at knowing what Renya is thinking than you have ever been. She must seem to have quite the intuition to you.”

Leliana stayed quiet.

“She sees what you cannot,” Meviel explained simply. “It is not your fault. You are only human, after all.

“She wishes to return to her clan,” the elf continued once Leliana had sat down across from her. “To her old life.”

“…I know.”

Meviel sighed. “Her scarf… belonged to the first of our clan, Merrill.”

Leliana nodded at the familiar name. “Renya’s talked about her. She said they were friends.”

“Yes, they were… good friends. Hahren Marethari did not approve, though. She said Merrill should bond herself to someone else, anyone else, other than a hunter.”

Leliana nodded with a small shrug. That was too bad.

“Marethari finally relented, though. They were bonded eventually.”

Leliana’s breath caught. Meviel continued on recklessly, looking down at her lap.

“But it did not matter. They had been bonded for years before Marathari finally performed the ceremony.”

Leliana’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

Meviel frowned in confusion. “It is not the words or the wrapping of hands that binds you to one person or another. It is…” She lowered her voice and leaned in. “Laying with the person. So,” she added, her voice returning to normal. “They had been bonded for years.” She gave Leliana a meaningful look.

Meviel watched as horror slowly filled Leliana’s face. She felt bad; this human obviously cared for Renya, but if Renya wished to return to the Sabrae, the human needed to stop pursuing her before something happened between them. A distraction was not worth being banished over, after all.

“But what I do not understand is why Merrill left her scarf,” Meviel continued, almost to herself. Leliana wasn’t paying attention anymore.

_“Once we are in the camp, we will not be able to spend so much time together. Like this.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Dalish and humans are not allowed to be bonded.”_

_“Bonded? You mean married? But we are not-”_

“…bonded…” Leliana murmured to herself. “I… I have to go,” she said suddenly, standing and striding for the door.

“Ma nuvenin,” Meviel said sadly, watching her go. She winced as the door slammed. It had been hard, but this was the only way for Renya to be able to return to her clan.

***

_“But we are not married.”_

Leliana’s head was reeling and she didn’t notice where her feet were taking her. Was that why Renya was acting so strangely? She thought they had been bonded when Leliana said they had not?

And how _could_ she? How could she not mention this to Leliana even once?

But perhaps there was more to this story…

_Renya was crouched over a blue scarf, looking distraught._

Leliana’s breathing was becoming more ragged. Perhaps Renya was regretting laying with Leliana. Perhaps she was only used as a distraction as Renya pined for the elf she loved.

Used. _Used…_

 _“No…no…” Renya held the scarf a little more tightly to her chest. “She left me. She did not believe I was coming back… No… You promised me,” she added in a whisper. “You_ promised _me…”_

Leliana’s throat tightened.

She used you. _Used_ you… You meant _nothing_ to her. That perfect night in Tapster’s meant nothing… _You_ meant nothing.

She shook her head forcefully and practically ran into the forest, feeling hot, angry tears begin to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....oh boy.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	124. Where Love Ends

Leliana was strangely absent from the celebration that evening, and no one seemed to have noticed where the red-haired human had gone. After searching the camp, Renya tentatively made her way into the forest. She hoped Leliana didn’t go in there by herself. It was safe here, but not completely without danger.

A soft sob caught her attention, and she made her way over to it silently. She came to a small clearing, in which was a human sitting curled at the roots of a tree, crying into her hands. The red hair stood out starkly against the green around her.

“Leliana?” Renya called tentatively. The crying stopped, followed by a very brusque sniffle and a soft cough.

“Yes?” Leliana called back with forced calm.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

Renya sighed and sat down next to Leliana, noticing when Leliana scooted away so their arms no longer touched. They sat silently for a long time, the sounds of the forest and the distant celebration the only noise in the air.

“You are wearing her scarf.”

“What?”

“You are wearing her scarf,” Leliana repeated, turning and glaring at Renya. “Merrill’s.”

“Who told you…?” Renya sighed. “Yes.”

“Meviel said you and she were bonded.”

“ _Meviel_ told you…?” Renya rubbed her vallaslin in frustration. “She would.”

“Were you?”

Renya took a deep breath, her heart pounding. “…yes. For many years.”

“And now?”

Renya shook her head, not understanding.

“Are you still?”

Renya touched the scarf around her neck self-consciously. The only reason she had it was because, upon her return to Ferelden, Merrill had left it behind. So that must mean…

“No,” Renya said softly, her voice catching. She pulled the scarf off slowly and stared at the material crumpled in her hands, a lump forming in her throat. “No, I suppose we are not.”

“But you have feelings for another?” Leliana demanded, hurt and desperately trying to ignore the voice in her head telling her Renya was just like Marjolaine, merely using her when convenient. She stood angrily and turned away, crossing her arms.

“I was taken from my clan less than a year ago,” Renya said sadly, standing as well. “Yes, I was forced to leave my falon’saota, the woman I was bonded to, the woman I loved. I will never see her again. My clan knew I would never return, even though I would not hear of it at the time.” She took a deep breath. “It did not matter what promises I made. They could never be kept…” she finished in a murmur.

“But your heart – I only care if your heart belongs to another.” The bard’s tone was cold.

“These things are not so simple,” Renya began.

“So that is a yes,” Leliana returned acidically, turning on her heel and glaring at her. “You’ve lied to me this whole time!”

“What?” Renya reached for Leliana as she turned away. “No, I only-”

“No! Get away from me!” Leliana pulled away from the elf. “You are just like _her! Get away from me!_ ”

“No! Stop! Listen to me!”

Renya grabbed Leliana’s arm, and Leliana twisted away. The metal arm bracelet she wore near her shoulder slipped off as she pulled away, and Renya was left holding it.

“Leliana!”

“ _Leave me alone!_ ”

She shoved Renya with both hands, and the elf stumbled backwards a step before tripping over a tree root and falling. She tried to scramble to her feet, but she was barely to her knees when she saw Leliana disappear into the forest.

“Leliana!” she yelled, her voice barely echoing in the dense trees. “Leliana!”

***

Leliana ran. And ran. She didn’t know where she was going, and didn’t care. Eventually she’d be out of the forest. She would figure out what to do then. But right now, she needed to get as far away from _that horrible elf_ as possible.

Eventually she stopped to catch her breath. The trees were more dense here, and the forest was silent and cool. She leaned against a tree, angry thoughts filling her mind.

A distraction. From the woman she was married to. That’s all she was. A _distraction._ How _dare_ she?

“Oh. Hello.”

Leliana looked up. Another elf, this one with a mage’s staff, had just appeared and was staring at her curiously, a canvas pack slung over her back. They surveyed each other silently for a few seconds.

“Oh. Should I say something? I do not have much practice with humans. And the last time I saw one it…” She sighed. “It was not a very good experience for me.”

Leliana shrugged. “You may continue your business. I’m just going for a walk.”

The elf tilted her head. “By yourself in the middle of a forest inhabited by Dalish? I might not be the smartest elf, but I am not completely stupid.”

“It’s not like an elf to be alone, either, is it?”

The elf startled. Her olive eyes swept around the area they were in. “I… I am on a journey for someone very special to me. She’s… been lost.”

Leliana nodded dully. “I wish you luck finding her.”

“I don’t think I will,” the elf replied sadly. “But I can at least try to help. It is the least I can do.” She studied Leliana. “You have been crying. Are you alright?” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Ir abelas, that is not rude to ask a human, is it? I am trying to be friendly.”

In spite of herself, Leliana smiled a little. “It’s fine,” she replied. “I’m just… Someone very dear to me… she… she…”

“Has she been taken from you, too?” the elf asked kindly. She nodded sympathetically before checking herself. “Although I suppose humans are usually the ones doing the taking, not the ones being taken. Stupid question. Sorry.”

“It feels like she’s been taken, but I’m not sure she was ever mine to begin with.”

The elf frowned in confusion.

Leliana shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” the elf said. “Being taken away is different than choosing to leave. When you have a choice…” The elf sighed, and touched her collar as if looking for something that once hung there. “It matters more.”

They stood quietly for a moment.

“Well, I should be going,” the elf said.

“Are you returning the Zathrian’s clan?”

The other elf swallowed. “No.” She frowned at Leliana. “How do you know of Sathrian’s clan?” But before Leliana could respond, she shook her head. “If you know the clan, you should return to it before nightfall. The forest is not safe for lone humans. Although the veil feels stronger now…” she added with interest. “Anyway, it is in that direction.” She put down her pack – which sounded like it contained pieces of broken glass – and pointed in the direction from which Leliana had run. “Go that way, and eventually you will find the camp.”

“Thank you,” Leliana said. “But I’m still not sure of my way. Would you be able to-?”

“No,” the elf replied. “I am not returning to that camp.” She looked angry for a moment. “I know one of the elves there and…” She shook her head. “No, I am not returning to that camp.”

Leliana frowned, wondering which elf in the camp she should be wary of.

“You should go,” the elf said again, shouldering her pack once more. “If you hurry, you will make it before the sun completely sets. Dareth shiral, human.”

“Wait!” Leliana said as the elf started to disappear into the shadow of the trees. “Who do you know in the clan?”

Silence.

“What was your name?” Leliana called.

More silence. A rustle behind her made her jump, and a little fox padded out of the bushes. It froze when it saw her. They blinked at each other, before the fox continued on his way.

With a sigh and another look over her shoulder at where the elven mage had stood, Leliana began making her way back through the forest.

***

Renya sat at the base of the tree, staring in shock at the place Leliana had disappeared into the forest. Her eyes fell on the scarf lying among the roots and she picked it up with a sigh. With everything that happened in the aftermath of the fight with the werewolves, Renya had never made it to the cave. She would never catch Merrill, now. A lump formed in her throat, and she brought the scarf to her face and began to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart is hurting...
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	125. And Where It Begins

The trip back seemed to take much longer than the trip out, and not just because she was walking now. She trudged on until she found a little clearing. In it was another lone elf, sitting at the foot of a tree. An elf holding a blue scarf in one hand, and a delicate gold arm bracelet in the other.

Renya.

She was looking between both items, as if weighing them. Leliana’s lip curled with residual anger. She was about to call out with one of the many disparaging comments in her mind, but then she saw how blotchy Renya’s face looked.

She had been crying.

That alone was enough to give Leliana pause. Renya never cried – certainly not enough to _look_ like she had been crying. As she watched, Renya brought the scarf to her lips and kissed it – Leliana’s sneer twitched a little – before she laid it at the base of the tree, neatly folded again.

“Goodbye, Merrill.”

She wiped her eyes with a sigh before looking up. She startled when she saw Leliana watching her.

“Lelia!” She jumped to her feet and then realized what she had said. “I mean… This is… You dropped this.” She offered Leliana the bracelet. But Leliana was looking at the scarf. Renya followed her gaze.

“I made a choice, Leliana.”

_Choices matter more._

“Why?”

Renya swallowed. “Why what?”

“You lay with me when you were bonded to another. You lay with me without telling me what it would mean to you!”

Renya closed her eyes. While she did not regret the act – indeed, she had made peace with the idea that it had probably meant nothing to Leliana, at least by Elvhen standards – she regretted how it came about. Apparently with good reason. It had apparently meant quite a bit to Leliana, too.

“Why did you use me like that?” Leliana’s voice had changed, sounding more hurt than Renya had ever heard it.

_You are the biggest da’felas this world has ever seen._

“I did not use you, Leliana. I swear to you,” Renya said. She took Leliana’s hand, relieved when it wasn’t pulled from her grasp. “I… I thought… I know humans do not see this act the same way.”

Leliana waited. That was not an answer, and they both knew it.

“But I love you, Lelia. This was something you wanted. I… I want to give you things that you want. I cannot give you tapestries or fancy clothes or colored glass or a bed or anything else.” Renya sighed. “You said… as a bard… this was meaningless… But you wanted to, and… maybe you just wanted to… to lay with me because… for fun. Like you said some humans do. And I wanted to, too, and I just…” She buried her face in her hands. “I just want you to be happy.”

_This is why the Hahren taught you to not act selfishly, you da’felas._

“I can never return to my clan now, don’t you see? Regardless of whether you believe we are bonded or not, if they discovered I had laid with a human, I would be banished. It is a death sentence for a Dalish.” Renya looked at Leliana helplessly. “And I knew what I was giving up that night in Orzammar,” she added. “I knew what it meant, and I didn’t care, because I…” Her voice faded and she rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.

Her eyes fell on the scarf on the ground, and Leliana’s gaze followed.

“It was the last tie to my clan. But…” She looked up at Leliana again. “I made my choice, Leliana. They have left me, and… and…” She closed her eyes. “I have left them. That was my choice. It is still my choice. And I do not regret it.”

A long silence fell.

_Choices matter more._

“I do not expect you to understand. I do not expect you to believe me. You have no reason to do either, anymore.”

Leliana stood quietly, thinking. She thought back to the night in Tapster’s. Renya had not planned on sharing the bed, not until Leliana had convinced her. Even then, the elf was tentative in agreeing.

Had this been what she thought about: the consequence of her actions? Had she weighed how much she believed that act would mean to Leliana, after hearing of the bard’s history and of the other meaningless flings of humans? Had part of her, however large or small, mourned the loss of her old life, her old love, as she had been forced to do so often during this journey?

Maker, what a mess. Renya had agreed to Leliana’s request because she was trying to adapt to human society – and, Leliana realized, to give “her” human what she thought she wanted – even as she knew it would go against everything she had ever been taught as a Dalish elf. And, like all her attempts to assimilate, it had been clumsily done, but honestly intended.

But…

“You never told me about Merrill,” she said quietly.

Renya shook her head. “No. I did not.” She looked down at the arm bracelet in her hands. It shook a little in her grasp. “What did you want me to say?”

Leliana put her hands on her hips. “Are you being serious? All that time I flirted with you, and you ask me what I wanted you to say? What about something about you being bonded to someone in your clan?”

Renya exhaled sharply. “It was not your business. I did not flirt back, did I?”

“And when you kissed me?”

Renya shook her head. “I have been torn in two these past months, part of my heart wanting to return to my clan and part of me knowing all along that was impossible. But I will not deny that I find you very attractive, and have for a very long time. Even though it hurts me to say so, I have also known for a long time that I can never return to my clan, even if I would not admit it aloud So, yes, Leliana. I decided to kiss you.”

Leliana laughed humorlessly. “You expect me to just suddenly be okay with-”

Renya scoffed incredulously. “You liked when Marjolaine called you pretty, did you not?”

Leliana stammered to a halt. Renya nodded.

“I saw your face. And I saw your nightmare. You did not turn your feelings off for her immediately, either. Only after you confronted her, yes? Well!” She indicated the scarf on the ground. “I was wrong, and I admit that. I am sorry, because I have hurt you. But neither of us have been completely honest with each other since this whole thing began, yes?”

“Don’t you dare twist this onto me!”

“I am not!” Renya shook her head in frustration. She sank to the ground, still holding Leliana’s arm bracelet dejectedly in one hand, dangling as she rested her hands on her knees.

“I have apologized. I have told you about Merrill. I have told you I have chosen you.” She glared up at Leliana. “My only point when I bring up Marjolaine is this: forgive me or do not forgive me, Leliana. My past is my past, just like you. I have done what I have done. I have said what I have said. I was wrong. I am sorry because my words and actions have upset you. But whatever you decide, I do not want to argue with you anymore.” She tapped the bracelet against her knee. “So decide what you want to do with me. Like everyone else has.” She looked down at the ground, and didn’t look up again until she felt Leliana sit next to her so their arms touched.

“We are certainly a pair, aren’t we?”

Renya nodded glumly.

“Renya?”

“Hm?”

“Of course I forgive you.”

Renya blinked back a few tears.

Tentatively, Leliana took Renya’s hand. Renya looked over at her miserably. “You have been asked to accept many strange things since you left your clan, the least of which, I’m sure, is the unexpected affections of a human. Or,” she added thoughtfully. “The unexpected attraction to a human.” She contemplated their interlaced fingers.

“While I cannot ever imagine what it must be like to be a Dalish elf in a human world,” Leliana added softly. “I can understand now that you were only doing what you thought would make me happy. Because you… you…”

“Because I love you,” Renya said quietly.

Leliana squeezed her hand. “And I love you. And so you should know that I would never ask you to turn your back on your customs for me. You once said you just wanted me to be honest. Well… that’s the only thing I want from you, too.”

“And so I will be honest,” Renya said, rising. “I will go back to the camp now and tell them about us first thing tomorrow morning, if that is what it takes to fix this. I will become an enemy of my people, but my conscience will be clear, and you will know that I am serious about us…”

“You will do no such thing,” Leliana said, following her and taking both of Renya’s hands this time. “I wish I had known these things before, but I will not have you lose your connection to your people because of me. You have lost enough.”

Renya looked down at the scarf sadly, now lying on the ground again. “This is the scarf we used when Marathari bonded us. And she came back to Ferelden, and left it behind.” She looked up at Leliana sadly, looking more lost than Leliana had ever seen her. “They all made choices. They all chose to give up on me. They all chose to leave me behind.” Not for the first time, Renya felt very small and alone.

Leliana stood quietly, not sure what to say. She knew there was nothing she could do to change what Renya was feeling, but wished there was.

Renya looked down at the vir tanadahl ring Leliana had given her. It seemed so long ago that Renya was promising to be Leliana’s champion and Leliana had unknowingly purchased an Elvhen ring because she thought Renya would appreciate the markings on it. Her mind went to the Deep Roads; Leliana had been the only one unafraid of Renya in her darker moments. She hadn’t been afraid of what the Taint might do to her, even when she should have been.

“But you haven’t,” Renya said softly, still staring at the ring.

“And I’m not going to,” Leliana murmured back.

Renya glanced at her morosely. “Do not make promises you cannot keep, vhenan.”

Leliana pulled Renya into a hug. “I intend to keep this one, my love. No matter what.”

They came apart. “So, are we bonded now?”

Renya arched an eyebrow at her. “That depends. Are you asking as a human, or as an elf?”

“I am asking about us.”

A long silence followed this. Leliana waited, watching the elf carefully. Renya weighed what she wanted to say. She settled on the truth. She would be honest.

“I… would like us to be,” Renya said quietly. “But-”

“Good,” Leliana cut in. Renya stared at her, and then grinned.

“After we have defeated the Blight…” She hesitated, but then barreled on. “There is a clearing, a little way from here. We can… make it more official.”

“I think it’s official, isn’t it?” Leliana asked, cocking an eyebrow. “It’s been official a few times, now.”

Renya laughed. “But this will be very official. Extra official. You are bonded to an elf; we will have to lay in the forest together at some point. It is practically the law.”

Leliana chuckled. “If that is what you wish.”

“You will think it is beautiful.” Renya listened for a moment, then took Leliana’s hand again. “But come, we should return to the celebration before someone misses us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart still hurts...
> 
>  
> 
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	126. A Secret, Kept and Told

Renya sat by Leliana, talking animatedly to the fledglings who wanted to know if she had really, _truly_ fought a dragon in the ruins. Leliana laughed as Renya told the story, waving her arms to illustrate the sheer magnitude of the beast. She was no bard, but she could tell a story. Nyviel came over and sat with them, as well, and soon many of the other elves had stopped dancing to listen, too.

The music suddenly stopped and the little crowd around Renya parted as Mithra slowly made her way toward the Warden, holding her side. Renya stood up, surprised, and offered her hands out to the elf to help her sit. Mithra pulled away from the help, looking at Renya curiously.

“I am sorry I attacked you in the ruins,” she said loudly and clearly. “You had the strength to stand against injustice, as the Dalish all wish to do, when I did not. You acted rightly, and spared me the consequence of attacking a Dalish, only defending yourself, and then bringing me to safety.” She gave Renya a little bow. “Ir abelas, rajelan. Ma serannas.”

She rose. “I am sorry, Renya. Just because you work with humans, does not mean you are not still Elvhen.”

Renya smiled, more grateful and amazed that Mithra was lying to keep the humans safe than pleased at her apology. “Ma serannas, Mithra.”

“And as a thank you for your services to the clan,” Lanaya added, coming forward. “The Dalish promise to honor the old agreement between us and the Grey Wardens. When you call, we will answer.”

“Ma serannas, Lanaya. Thank you so much.”

Slowly the music started again and the elves went back to celebrating. Master Varathorn approached them.

“This is for you,” he said quietly, handing her a bow made of ironbark. “You brought so much, I thought it only right that I make something for you. Your friend,” he said, nodding to Nyviel, “said your bow was made by a dear friend from the Sabrae, but I hope you find a use for this one, as well.”

Renya took it and rubbed her fingers over the handsome dark wood, noticing the elven symbols carved into it.

“I call it the Sorrow of Arlathan,” Varathorn said. “It is good for us to remember what we have lost, so we may make a new future for ourselves.” His eyes flitted over to Leliana, and he gave her a polite nod. “Perhaps your human friend? Maybe she would like a bow of her own.”

“Ma serannas, Hahren,” Renya said, admiring the bow and feeling Leliana’s eyes on her. She also accepted the quiver full of arrows.

“There, now enjoy the rest of the celebration. You will be taken from us too soon, I fear, da’len.”

“I must continue my journey,” Renya corrected gently. “Ma serannas, Hahren. For everything.”

***

“You must tell us a story, now,” Sorel said with a smile when the fire hand burned low. Leliana looked around and realized he was speaking to her.

“Me?”

“Yes,” he said with a friendly wave of his hand. “It is rare we have an opportunity to hear stories from humans. Most humans do not want to eat with us and celebrate with us,” he added darkly.

With a glance at Renya, who smiled encouragingly, Leliana rose and straightened the Dalish robe Lanaya had loaned her. She looked at Renya briefly before taking a breath and smiling at the gathered group of elves watching her with interest. She glanced around, calculating. The rest of the Warden’s party was long asleep. Her gaze fell onto Renya for the briefest of moments before she leaned in toward the group conspiratorially.

“Do you want to know a secret?” she began softly to grab everyone’s attention. “This is a tale of foolish people, long ago, and what came to be, due to their machinations upon the world. I know the story, and what is true. But who is the hero and who the villain? Who could ever love a goddess corrupted by the world, or listen to the songs of a small bird singing in the dark? I will tell this story one more time, and perhaps together we shall see…

In this time, long past, there lived a poetess, a keeper of many human tales. Many found her to be beautiful, and wished to court her. She was admired, and men and women would stand near her when she performed, desiring to be close to the song and the woman who sang it. But despite this, the poetess was alone in the world. She built a life of her stories, each one a brick of protection from the loneliness around her. She wrapped herself in her songs, and hid her true face from the world behind the mask she had created with her tales.”

Leliana smiled to herself when she saw how enthralled the clan was with her story. She made a flourish with her hands.

“But one day, amidst another evening of nameless figures in the crowd, the songstress saw what she believed was a goddess of light watching her. The goddess’s black hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, and her eyes were sharp and bright like the stars. She enchanted the songstress. Eventually, one one evening when the poetess felt most lost and alone, the goddess approached her. She admitted she had been enthralled by the poetess's words and songs, and wished for the poetess to come with her to her home. This, you can imagine, surprised the poetess, for how could someone as perfect as a goddess be enthralled by someone as small and helpless as a young girl with a lyre? But the poetess believes her, and stepped away from her lyre, her stories, and her songs, offering herself to the service of the goddess, instead. Enamored, the poetess finally removed her masks, opened the wall surrounding her heart, and showed her true face to the perfect woman who stood before her.”

The bard chanced a glance at Renya. The Warden was watching her with muted understanding. She continued, drawing her attention back onto the crowd.

“The goddess was pleased with the songstress’s sacrifice, telling her she sang the sweetest music, like the most beautiful nightingale. With these words, she transformed her into a whole new creature. She taught her pet new songs, and the little bird sang more sweetly for a time. She learned many songs, but her favorite was the one of love, one that she wrote specifically for the goddess.

“Pleased, the goddess continued to mold her pet. And the songstress, who now saw herself as a nightingale, and who was so used to living in shadows, now saw those shadows as opportunities. Seduction was merely another mask, a tool to be used. And the goddess, for actions both good and evil, rewarded with kisses, or sometimes blows,” she said, noticing Renya cross her arms out of the side of her eye. “But through all, the Nightingale grew, and learned, and changed, until she shone as brightly as the goddess herself. The goddess named them equals, and together they began to create an empire that struck fear into the hearts of men who sat high on their perches, sneering down their noses at the lesser creatures that lived below them.

“The Nightingale loved the goddess with her whole heart, never realizing how completely and easily she had been ensnared in the goddess’s trap. Friends warned the Nightingale to be careful. But the Nightingale trusted only the goddess, loved only the goddess, and drank deeply from the cup of life offered to her by the dazzling woman she swore herself to.”

She bowed her head, listening to the crickets chirping.

“What happened to the Nightingale?” Meviel’s son asked.

Leliana nodded heavily.

“The Nightingale found herself trapped in a room. Papers were scattered on the floor, and evil men were coming to capture her. She trusted the goddess to save her, and then, as all seemed lost, the goddess appeared and whisked the Nightingale to safety. At least,” she added softly. “That was how it appeared.

“As they ran, the goddess changed into a mere human, and she looked at the Nightingale next to her. They were surrounded, and the once-goddess had to chose between her life and that of the Nightingale. The Nightingale stood beside her love, ready to face death together, when the goddess took the Nightingale in her arms and kissed her… before betraying her with a knife between her ribs.”

A shocked gasp went through the crowd.

“Yes,” Leliana continued with a nod. “And with this betrayal, the Nightingale was forced to transform into a small, helpless bird. Thus, the Nightingale was captured. Her feathers were plucked, and her songs became screams, but her captors craved these new songs all the same. Her music was ripped from her body, her instruments stolen from her hands, and she was left damaged and unable to fly.”

A long silence fell. Leliana chanced looking at Renya. The elf looked sad and furious all at the same time.

“…does the Nightingale survive?” another one of the fledglings asked.

“Eventually, the little bird healed enough and flew away,” Leliana answered with a nod. “She flew to a land that had lost its songs to a terrible war, and took shelter in a great building where she could hide from any who would wish to find her. In this building, she believed, she was even safe from love, although she still craved it, knowing now that what the goddess had offered was not the great gift she once thought. The cup she once drank so willingly from had been filled, she now knew, with poison. And so she became a human once again and allowed herself to disappear. It was all she desired, for a time.

“But one day, an Elvhen woman came to the building where the poor human now lived. The once-poetess was drawn to her, but feared the elf would be the same as the goddess. She was just as dazzling, just as quick and light…

“But a voice told her to follow the elf, and she did. By the elf’s side, the Nightingale, who had only ever experienced the light of the goddess, began to feel the light and warmth of the sun on her face, and wished to live there forever. The Nightingale knew she could not keep her true form from the elf, though, for she still lived in the shadows. But Elvhen eyes see well even in darkness,” she added, smiling at the indulgent looks the elves shot at each other.

“One evening, the woman took the elf aside and transformed back into the Nightingale. Her feathers had never grown back all the way after her captivity, leaving unmistakeable scars. And so she landed at the elf’s feet and bowed her head, in expectation of the elf’s admonishment, banishment, and disdain. What she did not expect was for the elf to gently scoop her up and hold her in her warm hands. And do you know what she said?”

A few elves shook their heads.

“She looked at the little bird in her hands thoughtfully,” Leliana said, cupping her hands as if holding a bird. “And watched as it trembled before her, trying to hide behind its wing. She shushed it gently before she leaned in and said: ‘You are beautiful.’” Her voice cracked the slightest bit.

“And although the goddess still hunted the Nightingale, the elf protected her, for the Dalish are fiercely loyal,” she added. “The Nightingale feared that the goddess would harm the elf, or cause the elf to turn away from her, but the elf, in an unexpected twist, banished the goddess to a land where she could never harm the Nightingale again. The Nightingale transformed back into a human, grateful as the elf brought her into the sunlight.”

“Did she and the elf stay friends?” Meviel’s son asked. Meviel hushed him and pulled him onto her lap.

“Yes,” Leliana answered with a smile. “Happily. And ever after.”

“Good…”

Sorel stood up and gave Leliana a little bow.

“Thank you for sharing your story with us,” he said with a kind smile. “I will have to remember that one.”

Leliana returned the bow before settling back next to Renya.

“That is quite a story,” Renya commented as a few elves got up to return to their aravels.

Leliana nodded, not looking at her. Renya knocked their shoulders together before she leaned in close to her ear.

“You are beautiful.”

Leliana couldn’t help the grin that split her features as Renya pulled away as if nothing had happened, picking up a bowl of wine and sipping from it.

“Now I know why the Dalish are seen as heroes in human tales,” Leliana murmured introspectively. Renya looked over at her. “It is because they do save humans… often from themselves.”

Renya nodded and turned away, hiding her jaw-clench by taking another sip of wine. Leliana had only been speaking of herself, and Renya knew that she would always be there for her, but the truth of her words was still upsetting.

_Saved, only to be killed in service to the humans…_

Meviel’s son came up to them and sat down next to Leliana, looking at her seriously.

“Yes, da’len?” Renya asked with a smile. But the fledgling kept staring at Leliana.

“Will you tell me another story?” he asked. “I like your voice.”

Leliana laughed musically. “Of course! Shall I tell you the story of Elgar’nan and Mythal?”

“No, tell me another human story.”

Leliana chuckled. She glanced at Renya, who was watching the little boy with a doting smile. The bard put her arm around the child, who snuggled into her.

“Once there was a slave named Gareth,” she began. “Who ran away from his masters into the forest. Frightened and alone, he stumbled across a great lion, who was moaning and crying great lion tears. The man was afraid, but approached the lion, and, upon walking closer, saw a large thorn stuck in the lion’s paw…”

***

Renya watched the fire burn itself out as Leliana’s head lolled on her shoulder. The bard was fast asleep, still holding on to the little boy that Meviel had allowed to stay with the human. Renya smiled and looped her arm around Leliana’s waist, careful to not disturb the sleeping fledgling. A pang of longing went through her as she rested her head against Leliana’s; it was so peaceful here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you guys probably thought from the title that this was going to be some horribly dramatic chapter, didn't you? ;)
> 
> Yes, I love the opening to the "Leliana's Song" DLC more than I can say. Also, I really like picturing Leliana's accent saying "machinations." 
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	127. Promise Me

They left after breaking the fast the next morning. Lanaya saw them off, as did Mithra and Meviel, followed by the rest of the clan. Renya smirked as she watched Zevran peck one of the elves on the cheek; she blushed and kissed him back.

“Dareth shiral, Grey Wardens,” Lanaya said. “May the creators guide your path.”

“Ma serannas,” Renya replied, waving. Her eyes lingered on Mithra, who gave her a nod and a small smile. “Dareth shiral. Until we meet again.”

It took them around two days to reach the edge of the forest. Renya smiled to herself as all the humans looked relieved to be in the bright sunlight again, instead of under the coolness of the trees.

“So,” Alistair said, warming his hands in front of the campfire that evening. “We’ve secured the mages, the dwarves, and the Dalish. Now all that’s left is the Landsmeet!” He looked a little ill at the thought.

“And the Blight. Do not forget the Blight,” Renya offered with a smile

“Yes, yes,” the taller Warden said with a sigh. “It’s a pity we have to deal with a civil war on top of a murderous dragon bent on destroying the entire world.”

Renya laughed. “So where do we go now? Denerim?”

“Redcliffe,” Alistair corrected. “We need to report back to Eamon. Then he’ll tell us what comes next.”

Renya nodded and went back to staring into the fire. Leliana, too, was watching the flames with a thoughtful look on her face.

“You know, I have been thinking about something,” she said, not looking at anyone. “The plight of the elves, all they have lost. It reminds me… when my mother died, a wise elven woman – a servant of Lady Cecile’s – took me in her arms and sang a song. She comforted me, and told me we shouldn’t fear death, or hate it. Death is just another beginning, she said.” She finally looked over at Renya. “One day we must all shed our earthly bodies to allow our spirits to fly free.”

“A comforting thought,” Renya said, staring into the fire.

Leliana nodded. “It is a beautiful sentiment, I think, and one that brings peace and hope to the grieving. The song she sang… She said it was an old Dalish song of mourning. She called it ‘In Uthenera’…” she trailed off, glancing at Renya. The elf looked sad.

“Vin. Yes, I know this song. I have sung it many times with my clan,” she said quietly.

Leliana nodded solemnly. “It seems fitting, now that we are so close to the end, and have yet lost so much already.”

She walked over to her tent and pulled out the lute that Renya had given her one quiet evening so long ago, and plucked out a simple introduction. Then she began to sing.

_“Hahren na melana salin_  
_Emma ir abelas_  
_Souver’inan isala hamin._  
_Vhenan him dor’felas_  
_In uthenera na revas…”_

Leliana slowly walked around the campfire, the notes of the elven eulogy filling the camp. Renya watched as Alistair knelt and bowed his head, and Nyviel closed her eyes. Sten looked over from where he was sitting, his face relaxing as the notes washed over him. The bard circled around until she was standing in front of Renya.

_“Vir sulahn’nehn._  
_Vir dirthera._  
_Vir samahl la numin_  
_Vir lath sa’vunin…”_  
  
The Warden watched her, tears forming in her eyes. She had heard this song so many times, but now, with the world in the balance, it seemed even more powerful than it ever had. Without realizing what she was doing, she joined in.

_“Vir sulahn’nehn._  
_Vir dirthera…”_

Leliana smiled and turned back to the fire.

_“Vir samahl la numin._  
_Vir lath sa’vunin.”_  
  
She finished playing on the lute and let the notes ring into the night. Then, quietly, she replaced the instrument by her tent before resuming her seat by the fire. She smiled as Renya gently took her hand.

“Tel’enfenim, vhenan. Melana’nehn enansal ir sa lethalin,” she whispered. At Leliana’s look, she kissed the bard’s smooth knuckles. “Time will again be the joy it once was.”

***

An uneventful week passed as the group traveled back to Redcliffe. The arl was happy to see them, and even Isolde managed a polite greeting.

“And so it begins,” Eamon said after learning of their deeds from the past few months. “Loghain wishes to wage a civil war as darkspawn sit upon our doorsteps. I have spread news of Loghain’s treachery to as many as I can, but without the Landsmeet and a surrender, there is little else I can do.”

He paused, thoughtful. “If only we had someone with a stronger claim to the throne than Anora…”

“He’s talking about me, isn’t he?” Alistair murmured dryly.

“Brother, surely you don’t mean –?” Bann Teagan began. The arl raised a hand.

“I would not say this unless our need was dire. The blood of King Maric runs in your veins, Alistair,” Eamon said gravely. “You have more claim to the throne than anyone else in Ferelden.”

“No, not going to happen. No,” Alistair said quickly.

“You intend to put Alistair forward as King?” Renya asked, eyebrows raised.

“Who else is there?” Eamon asked. “Teagan and I have a claim through marriage, but we would be seen as opportunists, no better than Loghain. Blood is indeed thicker than water.”

“And what about me?” Alistair demanded. “Does anyone care what I want?”

“You have a responsibility, Alistair. Without you, Loghain wins, and I would have to support him for the sake of Ferelden. Is that what you want?”

“I… but, I….” Alistair scowled. “No, Uncle,” he finished, defeated.

The arl sighed. “There is only one way forward now. I shall call the Landsmeet, and the nobility of Ferelden with gather at Denerim. Ferelden can then decide who shall rule, one way or another.” He looked at Renya. “And what say you, friend?”

“I am eager for this to be done,” Renya said honestly.

The arl laughed. “I agree with you, Warden. Let us be off to Denerim, then. There is much to be done. I will send word to the nobility. Meet me at my estate once you arrive.”

***

Alistair looked doubtfully at the horse he was offered. “It’s been years since I’ve ridden,” he mumbled, swinging himself onto the horse with practiced ease. Zevran and Nyviel were already seated on one of the horses, Zevran grinning as Nyviel held on to his shoulders.

“I am looking forward to how close we will become on this journey,” he said, shooting a charming grin over his shoulder.

“Are we there yet?” she asked, giving him a punch on the arm and smiling.

“I don’t see why the arl couldn’t give us enough horses for everyone,” Alistair commented, looking at Wynne and Oghren, who were likewise mounted on their own horses, much to Oghren’s discomfort. The poor dwarf was holding the reigns much too tightly, and his hands were trembling. “It’s lucky you don’t want to ride,” Alistair added, nodding at Sten and Shale.

“Yes,” sniffed Morrigan. “I suppose he expects me to fly the whole way. But this is preferable, considering the alternative,” she said, eyeing the horse that she would have shared with Alistair.

Renya, meanwhile, was looking at her horse with interest. The horse tossed its head a few times.

“Easy,” she murmured in Dalish, reaching for it.

“Do you know how to ride?” Leliana asked.

“I have ridden halla before,” the elf replied with a shrug. “How much different could this be? Although I do not understand these,” Renya added, pointing to the saddle.

“It makes the ride more comfortable,” Leliana explained with a little smile.

“Here, my lady,” said a groom, stepping over to help her. “Allow me to –”

But Renya was on the horse before he finished. She smiled down at him politely. He shook his head and then looked at Leliana.

“I’m sorry, but the arl does not have any more horses he can loan to the Wardens.”

“That’s alright,” Leliana replied, swinging herself behind Renya. “I will ride with her.” She put her hands around Renya’s waist and pulled herself as close as she dared. “It will make up for all the nights we spent apart,” she breathed into the pointed ear in front of her, smiling as it twitched at her breath.

Renya cleared her throat. “Are we ready to depart?” She looked around at the nods from her fellows. “On to Denerim!”

***

The ride across the country went much faster now that the party was mounted, and Renya was impressed with Sten and Shale’s abilities to keep up with the horses. Even Oghren adapted well, only falling the first few days. After that, he was usually next to Renya, talking to her about the Grey Wardens. She was surprised at his interest.

Sometimes they all rode on silently, and she would smile when Leliana rested her head on her back, giving her middle a little squeeze. Morrigan flew between them as a raven, cawing happily, although occasionally she would land on Alistair’s head to annoy him, or perch on Renya’s shoulder, appearing to enjoy the attention when Renya would scratch under her beak.

“You are going soft, Morrigan,” Leliana said with a laugh one afternoon as the raven sat on the elf’s shoulder, eyes closed, letting the bard stroke its head. The bird opened its eyes and appeared shocked that it was Leliana, and not Renya, touching it, and flew off in a panic, cuffing Renya on the back of the head as she went.

“Ow!” Renya said good-naturedly, rubbing her head.

When they made camp, Renya commented that they must be close to Soldier’s Peak.

“I wonder if we should check on Avernus,” she said. She caught Alistair’s glare and backtracked. “Maybe once we have more time.”

They bedded down for the night. Renya was reading from a stack of parchment when Leliana came over to go to sleep.

“What are you reading, my love?”

“Old missives of Cailan’s,” the elf replied, stowing them in her pack again. “Zevran found them and thought I should read them before the landsmeet. I will have to tell you about them,” she added with a yawn. “But not tonight.”

Renya lay down and smiled when Leliana placed her bedroll next to hers. The bard lay down on her side, and smiled when Renya moved behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist.

“This is a nice change from the day,” Renya quipped, kissing the back of Leliana’s ear. The bard giggled and covered Renya’s hands.

“Yes, my love. And once we are in Denerim, I will make it up to you for how I have abused you so…’

***

Screaming woke the camp. Leliana jumped up and tried to calm Renya, who was up and brandishing her longsword and staring about her wildly. Alistair, too, was on his feet, his sword in his hand and his shield held at the ready. Maker, why did they always sleep with their weapons so close to them?

“Back! Back!” Alistair was yelling. “Fall back!”

“Alistair!” Renya hollered. “Look out!”

“Renya!” Leliana shushed. “It’s alright. You’re at camp. It’s alright!”

Morrigan, Nyviel, and Wynne appeared next to the screaming Wardens.

“What is this?” Morrigan asked, concern bleeding into her voice.

“A nightmare,” Leliana said helplessly, trying to pull the longsword from Renya’s hand before she hurt anyone. Wynne had become likewise engaged with Alistair. Finally the Wardens calmed down.

“What…? What…?” Alistair looked down at himself, drenched in sweat.

“We are… it is… a dream?” Renya stared around wildly. She relaxed when she took in the worried faces of her friends. “Mythal’enaste…” she mumbled, burying her face in her hands.

“Shall I prepare a draught for sleeping-?” Morrigan began.

“No,” Alistair cut in sharply.

“But thank you,” Renya added dryly.

“Suit yourselves,” the witch replied with a huff. She studied Renya. “Warden?”

“I am fine, Morrigan. Just a bad dream. A Grey Warden dream.”

Eventually they convinced the others that they were fine, and Renya shook Leliana off, saying she needed to speak with Alitair privately.

“The archdemon,” he whispered when they were away from the rest of the camp.

“It sees us,” Renya murmured back. “Although it is interesting the kind of visions it sends,” she mused. “Not of orders, or current movements, but of destruction.”

“It’s fightened of us,” Alistair commented. “I mean, Maker, I hope so. Why else would it try to show us… all those things? They aren’t things that have happened.”

Yet. Neither one of them said it out loud, but the shared look let each know the other was thinking it.

Renya nodded. “Nothing, then, can be done before we reach Denerim and the Landsmeet is concluded.” She sighed. “Then what? We wait for the archdemon to appear?”

Alistair smiled wryly. “More waiting. Although hopefully not in a tent this time.”

“Whatever would we talk about?” Renya returned with a forced chuckle. “You have been staring at my vallaslin for months now!”

“Maker, I’d forgotten about that…”

Renya put a hand out to stop him before he returned to his bedroll. “Alistiar, I… I want you to know that you were the first human I ever really tried to trust. And… I am glad I did. I am proud to call you my brother, my… lethallin.”

A grin split across Alistair’s face. “Really? Wow! Who are you and what have you done with the fierce Dalish Warden I’ve been traveling with?”

Renya punched him on the arm. “Goodnight, lethallin.”

Alistair chuckled. “Goodnight. And Renya…” He waited until the elf had turned around again. “I really am glad you and I have been in this together. Now go back to Leliana before she kills me with her glare!”

“That’s right,” Leliana said, hands on hips, when Renya had returned. Renya noticed that the slightly defiant look was spoiled by the worry in Leliana’s eye, but she let herself be pulled back down to the bedroll without comment. Leliana wrapped her arms around the elf, resting her head on Renya’s chest and listening to Renya’s heartbeat.

“Is something bothering you, Lelia?” Renya asked, feeling Leliana hold her more and more tightly.

“I… I love you.”

Renya smiled and stroked Leliana’s hair. “I love you, too, Lelia.”

“You… you are the best friend I have ever had. I cannot imagine my life without you.”

“…Vhenan…”

“Never leave me. Promise me.”

A long silence followed this. Leliana pulled away a little.

“It’s silly, I know,” she said, not meeting Renya’s eye. “To ask that of a Grey Warden in the middle of a Blight. But…”

Renya considered her for a moment before reaching under her tunic and pulling out her father’s purple amulet. She sat up and, when Leliana followed her, placed it over Leliana’s head.

“What is this?” The bard touched the stone.

“It was my father’s,” Renya said quietly, placing her fingers over the gem now lying on top of where Leliana’s heart was. “It was given to him when he was the first of my clan, before he was made Keeper.”

Leliana started to protest, but Renya interrupted her. “It is a vhen’nosse, the heart of the family. No matter where I am, no matter how far apart we are…” Renya took a deep breath. “This is where my heart will be. Forever. It will never be apart from yours.” She met Leliana’s eyes, fingers still holding the amulet to her chest. “I promise you.”

“Renya, I… thank you, but I can’t keep this…” Leliana said, starting to take the necklace off. Renya stopped her, covering her hands.

“It has been yours,” Renya replied softly. “Keep it, Lelia. It is my promise to you.”

“I… it’s…”

Renya gently kissed her. Leliana pressed into it, knowing she could never express how much she loved the elf next to her.

“I’m sorry, I just… I just needed…”

“It is alright.” Renya looked at the amulet glinting in the moonlight and smiled. “You do not need to explain it to me.”

They lay back down, Leliana lying more comfortably on Renya’s shoulder now, although the bard still clutched Renya tightly. They stayed like that quietly for a long time.

“You will end this Blight, my love,” Leliana whispered confidently. Renya stayed still, feeling guilty that if Leliana was correct, it did not guarantee the storybook ending she envisioned. When she felt Leliana look up, she closed her eyes, feigning sleep. She felt Leliana kiss her cheek before snuggling back into her.

“Goodnight, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh*
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	128. A Rescue

Denerim was buzzing when they entered it later that week.

“A landsmeet!” someone whispered. Others pointed at the mounted party riding toward the Arl of Redcliffe’s estate.

“Are those the Wardens?” another asked. “Hail, Wardens! There are people here who still support you!”

“Quiet down!” yelled another. “They are responsible for the king’s death!”

Renya clicked her horse to go faster as the crowd pushed toward them. Leliana gave her a squeeze.

“Just ignore them, my love,” she murmured. “They will soon know how wrong they are…”

“Teryn Loghain is a hero!” someone cried. “You dare tarnish his name, knife-ear?”

“Just ignore them,” Leliana intoned, feeling Renya stiffen.

Guards appeared out of nowhere to break up the rabble.

“Go on!” one cried. “Go back to your homes!”

They soon entered the gate to the arl’s estate, which closed quickly behind them, and dismounted. A flash of light announced Morrigan’s transformation back into a human.

“Welcome, Grey Wardens,” said a kind voice. Renya looked into the smiling face of an elf who looked almost familiar.

“It’s you!” the serving elf said, walking forward. “You’re the elf from Ostegar!” She narrowed her eyes. “Was it you that threw the rock at that man?”

Renya frowned, and then broke into a grin as she remembered. “Yes, it was me,” she admitted, ignoring the confused stares of her friends.

“I figured; you were the only one who stood up to him. And you, too,” she added to Wynne, who smiled kindly. “But I’ve forgotten my place, messere. Please, you are most welcome here. The arl arrived yesterday, and bids you to rest before meeting with him tonight.”

“That would be welcome,” Oghren grunted, his back popping as he stretched.

***

Renya sighed contentedly. She lay back on the bed, fresh from a bath and clad in her Dalish robes. The room Eamon had prepared for her was nicer even than the room at Tapster’s. She grinned and wondered where Leliana was. The glass in the windows was colored, and a great tapestry hung on the wall. She pulled a rose from the vase next to her bed and softly padded down the hallway in her bare feet, ignoring the frown of one of the human servants.

Not surprisingly, she found Leliana in the library. She snuck up behind her before springing on her, wrapping her arms around her and kissing her neck.

“A rose for an even more beautiful one,” she said as she presented the flower to her.

“What’s this?” Leliana said with a little giggle.

“For my Orlesian rose,” Renya said with a sly grin. “Beautiful, but…” She eyed the daggers still at the bard’s waist. “With thorns.”

Leliana smacked her arm, chuckling, but accepted the flower. “You are too much.”

“Have you seen the room Eamon has given us? It is amazing!”

Leliana smiled indulgently as the elf tugged on her hand and pulled her down the hallway, up the stairs, and around the corner. Renya dragged her into the room and pointed, a triumphant look on her face.

“Look! Colored glass! _And_ a tapestry!”

“It’s wonderful, my love,” Leliana said, still smiling. “But this is your room, is it not? Mine is down the stairs, and –”

“No,” Renya cut in stubbornly. “This is your room.” She glared over Leliana’s shoulder at the door. “Let anyone try and say otherwise.” She suddenly looked self-conscious. “No, you would not want to be seen with an elf. Not in Denerim. The other humans would hate you, yes?” The elf wilted a little. “Yes, perhaps it is better the other way…”

Leliana shook her head and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss on Renya’s cheek. “No, it is best this way,” she murmured.

A soft cough brought their attention to the door. A young human servant was standing there, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“Your pardon, messere,” she said, addressing Renya. “But the arl requests your presence in his study. M’lady,” she added to Leliana, dipping into a curtsey before leaving.

“My lady,” Renya echoed, kissing Leliana’s hand. Leliana shooed her away with a laugh.

“Go on, don’t keep him waiting!”

Renya wandered down the hallway, wishing the servant had waited. She had no idea where the arl’s study was, or what a “study” even looked like; perhaps she should have asked Leliana to come with her. She heard voices, one of whom was Alistair’s, and she followed it.

“Ah, Renya,” Eamon said when she appeared in the doorway. “Come in. I trust you are making yourself comfortable?”

“Yes, ma serannas. Thank you.” She smiled as she thought of Leliana’s assurance that she would unpack Renya’s things into the room. They would be here for a time, it seemed.

“Good, good. I hate to go straight to business, but this is a matter of some importance.” He indicated the elf next to him. “This is Erlina. She is a handmaiden of Queen Anora’s…”

“Please, messere,” the elf said, sinking into a low curtsey. “My Lady has been taken hostage by her own father.”

“Who would obviously like to speak for herself,” Eamon said with a small smile.

But Renya was staring at the other elf. “Hostage?”

“Loghain imprisoned his own daughter?” Alistair said, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on.

“Yes, ser. Well, no. She had become too… _vocal_ against his views of the Wardens.”

“She believes the Grey Wardens?” Renya asked incredulously.

“Please, messere. My lady is in a difficult position,” the elf continued with her Orlesian accent. “Her husband is dead. She trusted her father to protect him at Ostegar. Her father returns without Cailan, amid dark rumors. What is she to think? She is a smart woman, a capable ruler, and… She loves her father, no? Trusted him to protect her husband. What is she to think?” she asked again.

“Loghain is a subtle man, tells her not to worry herself,” Erlina continued, brushing a piece of dark hair from her face. “Rendon Howe – he holds the secrets. He is not so subtle. She goes to him, the new Arl of Denerim. The queen’s visit to the new arl? A matter of courtesy,” she said with a wave of her hand. “She demands answers. The arl… he insults her, calls her terrible things, ‘traitor’ being the least of them. He locks her away in one of the rooms before she can find out the truths she deserves.”

“We cannot send soldiers,” Eamon offered now. “Howe’s men might kill Anora.”

“Should we rescue her?” Renya asked Eamon. Erlina and Alistair wore matching shocked faces, but Eamon nodded in understanding; Erlina hadn't actually said whether Anora supported the Warden's or not.

“Although she is Loghain’s daughter, she is popular with the people. Having her on our side would be most helpful.”

Renya sighed. Footsteps behind her announced the arrival of Leliana and Zevran, both looking confused as they were hustled into the study by another servant.

“How are we to break into the Arl of Denerim’s estate?” Renya deadpanned. “Is that even possible?”

“Well…”

Renya decided to ignore Leliana, not wishing to know.

“Yes, we can disguise ourselves as guards, sneak in that way,” Erlina offered. “There are so many new soldiers arriving each day, they will not notice.” She looked pointedly at Renya’s tattoos. “And a helm would cover your markings. No offense, of course, messere.”

“No, no, it is fine,” Renya said heavily. Being Dalish posed some unique challenges in this situation.

“And us?” Zevran piped up. “Why are we here?”

“I… took the liberty of assuming the better people are at sneaking, the easier this will be,” Eamon said, looking uncomfortable. “An Antivan Crow and an Orlesian bard seemed best suited for the job.”

“I told him,” came Alistair’s guilty confession, seeing Renya, Leliana, and Zevran all staring at the arl with matching arched eyebrows.

“You are not sending them by themselves,” Renya said.

“Well, no…” the arl continued uncomfortably.

“We’d be going, too,” Alistair offered. Renya nodded, clenching her jaw.

“What are we waiting for?” Zevran said jovially, sharing a worried look with Leliana. “Let’s go rescue the queen!”

***

They arrived at the arl’s estate less than twenty minutes later. Erlina hustled them through the shadows away from the front gate, where the guards were busy trying to keep a mob of angry humans out.

“For the hundredth time, the arl isn’t seeing anyone today,” he said over the rabble. “Come back tomorrow.”

Erlina led them behind a covered wagon and deftly pulled out some armor in a sack behind it.

“Here. The armor,” she said, opening the bag.

The four rescuers put on the armor as quietly as possible.

“My ears don’t fit,” Zevran commented, settling the helm onto his head. He glanced at Renya and smiled when he saw the grumpy look on her face.

“I’m going to get helmet-burn,” she quipped, catching his eye.

“Now, this way,” Erlina said, ushering them through one of the shady gardens. “I will distract the guards, and you make your way inside.”

“Where is Anora?” Renya asked.

“She was in one of the bedrooms, upstairs,” Erlina responded. “Stay here.”

She ran out into the open, waving her arms until the guards at one of the side doors noticed her.

“Please! Help!” she cried. “I think I saw some darkspawn! Over there! Oh, they are horrid!” She pointed in the direction away from the Warden’s party.

“Sure, lady,” one huffed.

“Maybe we should check and see?” said the other. “We might have to call the rest of the guard; more warning will be better.”

“Alright, alright.”

As soon as the guards were gone, Renya, Alistair, Zevran, and Leliana darted for the door. Zevran picked the lock easily and they crept inside. They somehow managed to climb two flights of stairs and avoid the other guards as Erlina walked about half a room’s length in front of them, silently guiding them through the castle. Once they were in front of the bedroom, another problem occurred.

“They Grey Warden is here, my Lady,” Erlina said through the door. Renya raised her eyebrows; a shining barrior was in front of the wood.

“Thank the Maker!” came Anora’s response through the door. “I would greet you properly,” she called dryly. “But... we’ve had another set-back. My ‘host’ was not content with leaving me under heavy guard.” The queen’s voice was now filled with annoyance. “He’s sealed the door. By magic.”

“You couldn’t have given us some warning?” Renya asked flatly. Erlina shook her head.

“I didn’t know! There were only guards here when I left!”

“Please, Grey Warden!” came Anora’s voice. “Find the mage who cast the spell. He is most likely in the dungeons now, attending to some of the less fortunate… guests.”

“Maker…” Leliana groped for Renya’s hand. The elf squeezed her fingers as best she could through the plate armor.

“Very well,” Renya said. “I will return.”

“I am most grateful, Grey Warden.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This'll be easy. Threaten a mage, save Anora... They'll be back before the evening meal.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	129. Unfortunate Souls

They snuck through the castle, trying to blend in with the other soldiers. One stepped in front of Renya.

“You new here?” he asked, peering at her. “I’d think I’d remember eyes like yours.”

Renya hesitated. Another problem with being Dalish was her accent.

“Yes.” There. That sounded pretty Ferelden.

The guard’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you from?”

“Ammarrr-antheen.” Creators, in her attempt to sound Ferelden the word came out almost garbled.

“There you are!” Alistair said, pushing his way to the front of the little group. “Did all of you get lost?” He shook his head. “Can’t get good help these days, can you?” he said with a smile to the guard. “You’re late, let’s go. Move it!” he added, hustling them along. They marched out of the room as quickly as possible before Renya spotted an open door and darted into it. It was a bedroom; a bookcase was pulled aside to reveal a descending staircase. Wordlessly, the small party ran down the stairs.

“Mythal protect me,” she muttered. “Thanks, lethallin.”

He grinned. “Any time.”

Quietly they made their way through the dungeon. They came to a room filled with giant tables with wheels.

“What is this?” Renya asked in disgust. Men were tied to the tables. Her eyes widened. Dead men. Other corpses were in cages hanging from the ceiling, or lay impaled on spikes in the walls. A few hung from their necks, hands bound behind their backs. Men, women, young, old. All were without clothes.

“What is this?” she asked again, her voice higher. She heard Leliana taking deep breaths, as if trying to keep herself calm.

“It seems our new Arl of Denerim has some interesting tastes,” Zevran said softly, his mouth twitching into a frown.

A groan reached their ears. Leliana was beside the man in a flash.

“You’re alive?” she asked him, untying him from the rack.

“Am I?” he asked, looking at her as if not believing she was a real person. “No, I must be dead. Who are you?” he added, letting Leliana sit him up.

“Grey Wardens,” Renya said. “We are here to help you.”

“You are?” He tried standing up, and was surprisingly steady. “Thank the Maker… did my father send you?”

“Your father?”

“My father didn’t send you? He doesn’t know,” the man murmured. “He does not realize the snakes he has allied himself with.” The man straightened a little. “My father is the Bann of Dragon’s Peak. He must know what is happening here.…” He pulled some clothes from a nearby pile and Zevran helped him dress.

“Thank you, Grey Wardens,” he said to the group when he was done. “I’ll find some way to repay you, I swear it. You have my gratitude, and, I’m sure, the gratitude of the whole Dragon’s Peak bannorn.” And he limped away.

“Maker…” Leliana whispered, putting her hand over her heart. “Take their souls.”

A little further on they came to a room lined with cells.

“What?” said a guard, jumping a little. “Who goes there?”

Arms reached out from one of the cells and grabbed him before he could make it to the Warden’s party, choking him before breaking his neck. Renya backed up a little bit as the man was dragged into the cell. She and Alistair shared a look as the door creaked open.

“Thank you for the distraction, friends,” said a man now dressed in the guard’s armor. “I have been waiting days for the opportunity.” His accent was Orlesian.

“Do you think you could – Alistair? Is that you?” he asked, his blue eyes wide.

“Wait…” Alistair’s eyes narrowed. “I do know you.” He turned to Renya. “He’s one of us. A Grey Warden from Orlais. He was at my Joining. Jader?” He rubbed his forehead. “Or Montsimmard… I don’t remember your name, I’m sorry.”

“I am Riordan, Senior Warden of Jader, but born and bred in Highever. And happy to be home,” he said with a bow. “I was sent by the Orlesian Wardens to investigate the Blight after we received no word from King Cailan after the battle at Ostegar. It is… much worse than they believed.”

“Comforting,” Alistair commented.

“How many of you are here?” Renya asked.

“Only me,” Riordan said. “We had two hundred Wardens and five companies of chevaliers awaiting command, but the first we heard of Loghain’s edict was when we were turned away at the border. Then, we heard the rumors the Grey Wardens were being blamed for the massacre.” He sighed.

“The Wardens of Orlais remember the stories of the early Blights, of how many cities fell.” He shook his head. “They believed that if the Fereldens do not have the foresight to unite against the Blight, at least we will be ready to stop it from progressing further. But,” Riordan added with a smile. “I heard you are doing well raising an army for yourselves.”

“Yes. We are actually preparing for a Landsmeet,” Renya offered. Riordan nodded.

“Good, good. I wish I could offer you more help here, but I am in need of a warm meal and healing, and must gather some papers and other things from our vault here.”

“Go to the Arl of Redcliffe’s estate,” Alistair offered. “He will help you. And Wynne, one of the mages of the Circle, is there, helping us. She will be able to heal you.”

“I thank you, brother. And sister,” he added to Renya. “I will see you soon, I hope.”

“Should we go with him?” Leliana asked when Riordan had walked away.

“He’ll be fine,” Alistair said. “He’ll find his way. We need to focus on rescuing Anora so we’ll have her support at the Landsmeet.”

And so they continued on. A man was mumbling to himself. “We killed them. They killed us. Can you smell the blood, mother? They said it was only darkspawn. But we ate them, too! They did. And then we left them in the wilds!” His gaze fell on Renya. “We saw her. The witch! The witch!”

“He’s obviously mad,” Alistair said without pity. “You’ll get not more from him.”

Renya picked the lock anyway. “Go somewhere safe,” she said. The man walked out of the door cautiously.

“Safe? Is there a safe?” he asked. “Maybe. Maybe next door!”

Once he was gone, Renya noticed another man in the same cell.

“Has… has my sister sent for me?” He asked. “I am Irminric, Knight-Leutennant of the Chantry in Denerim. You… you are not my sister. Do I know you? No…”

“He’s suffering from lyrium withdrawl,” Alistair said. “He has all the signs. Oh, the Grand Cleric would spit hot coals if she knew he was in here. Nobles don’t have authority over the Order of Templar.”

“Maker forgive me. I failed, and there is no telling what he’s done.”

“Who?”

“The maleficar! I cornered him in Redcliffe, but the teryn’s men captured me and brought me here, let him sneak into the castle!” he finished in a cry.

“…was his name Jowan, by any chance?” Renya asked cautiously. The man frowned, deep in thought. Then nodded.

“Yes. Jowan. That was his name. He destroyed his phylactery and…” He stared hard at Renya. “You… you are real, aren’t you? If you are, then help me!”

“You are free, Ser Knight,” Renya said, reaching out toward him.

“No one can free me from my failure, save the Blessed Andraste. Here, give this to my sister, Alfstenna. Tell her I am sorry for failing her!” Irminric pulled a ring off his finger and handed it to the Warden, who silently passed it to Leliana. “I will stay here until my sister comes for me, and forgives me!” And he knelt down in prayer.

“Blessed Andraste, forgive your poor servant. Send me peace in all your divine mercy…”

Renya looked at Leliana helplessly. Leliana tried to comfort the man, but he shook her off.

“I am small and weak, but strong in your flame. Send your flame to cleanse me…”

“Hey!” called another voice weakly, catching their attention. “Over here!”

Renya turned and saw an elf imprisoned in one of the other cells. She approached him and picked the lock.

“What month is it?” he asked her. “Are you an enemy of Arl Urien’s? Ugh…” He rubbed his head. “It seems like I’ve been down here for ages…”

“Arl Urien is dead,” Alistair replied.

“Dead?” the elf whispered to himself. “Then who’s ruling…? His son, Vaughn… He struck me down. I ended up here…” He rubbed his head again. “People were so angry. They were thinking of petitioning the king.”

“The king is also dead,” Alistair offered, more quietly this time. “Loghain now rules.” The elf looked at him incredulously.

“Cailan? No… So much has changed since I was captured,” he said slowly. “I must find out what happened. I must get home… Thank you, stranger. I wish I had more than gratitude to give…”

“Atisha, falon,” Renya said quietly. “That you are safe is enough. Return to your home.”

“Dalish?” the elf said with interest. “Thank you. You are not as… scary as the stories say.”

Renya smiled.

“Hopefully our paths will cross again, stranger.”

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be down here!” More guards had appeared. “What are you doing?” one added, seeing the open cells.

With a glance at each other, Alistair and Renya charged, Leliana and Zevran on their heels. It was a nasty, bloody fight, but soon the guards lay dead. The city elf approached them as Renya removed her helmet and wiped hair from her forehead.

“Is it safe?” He peeked around the corner. “Thank you again. I’m getting out of here while I can!” And he ran off.

A mage appeared then, flanked by a few more guards.

“What in the Maker’s name…?” His gaze took in the dead guards, and then the Warden’s party. His eyes flicked up to Renya’s tattoos and a knowing smile grew on his face.

“Come to rescue the queen, I take it?” he said. “Ah, how Anora loves her games. I’m surprised she tries to play with the likes of the Grey Warden’s however.” He raised his staff. “No matter. The Wardens die here!”

Alistair bellowed and lunged forward before the mage could cast a spell, knocking him to the ground. Arrows whizzed around them, and Renya wasn’t sure which were Leliana’s and which were the guards’. More and more of the arl’s men were appearing by the moment, and the little party was soon overwhelmed. Something smashed on the ground at her feet.

“Renya! Look out!” Zevran called.

She dove away as Zevran threw a torch at the liquid, which erupted in a small explosion, sending them all flying. Renya sat up, groaning.

“Maker…” came Alistair’s voice from the other room. He hobbled over to where Renya was sitting.

“I tried to give more warning,” Zevran said sheepishly from where he was crouching in a cell. Leliana peeked out from behind them.

The mage and his guards were all dead. Renya and Alistair looked at each other.

“Shall we go back upstairs?” Renya said heavily. She looked at Leliana, her face sporting some black soot from the explosion. They made their way silently back toward the staircase that led upstairs, hurrying through the room with all the corpses.

Renya wiped Leliana’s face gently, her armored fingers doing little to remove the smudge. But the bard smiled at her nevertheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Anora's little games"? Well, they're closer to her rescue, at any rate.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	130. Descend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning: We enter Fort Drakon at the end of the chapter, and my mind is a scary place*

When they arrived upstairs, the barrier in front of Anora’s door was gone. Erlina was ecstatic and embraced the queen when she opened the door.

“You are in armor,” Renya observed.

“Of course. I must blend in, otherwise I will be captured again,” she said, as if the reason she was in ill-fitted plate was the most obvious one in the world.

“Right.”

“There are two types of people in this house,” Anora said with a frown. “Those that are loyal to Arl Howe, and those that are loyal to me. The ones loyal to Arl Howe would kill me if they found me. The ones loyal to me would bring me back to my father… who would also have me killed.”

“You believe that?”

“…My father is not the man he once was,” Anora said sadly. “A viper has whispered in his ear for too long, and he has lost his way…” She cleared her throat. “That is why I am in disguise. No one must find out that I am the queen. Do I have your word?”

“Yes,” Renya said. “We will see you safely back to Arl Eamon’s.”

“Good. My thanks to you. Let us depart.”

They turned to go. Unfortunately they only made it into the next room when they found it full of guards. One, a woman, stepped forward.

“Wardens! In the name of the regent, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Rendon Howe’s men-at-arms, treason, and crimes against the throne! Stand down, and you may be shown mercy!”

Renya stared at the woman for a long time, considering her options. They were well outnumbered, and if they fought there was a good chance they would not survive. Anora would be imprisoned or killed. She heard Alistair draw his sword.

“I will stand down,” Renya said. A shocked murmur went through the room. “You do not know the whole story.”

“What?” the guardswoman said, taken aback. “That was… unexpected.”

“Are you kidding?” Alistair asked. “The door is right there.”

“They believe us to be murderers. We are not. We are the Order of Grey Wardens, protectors of the people. We will not fight them,” Renya said clearly. The guardswoman wavered a little, considering.

“Perhaps they were mistaken?” one guard offered. The guardswoman didn’t say anything, still thinking. The little party watched her, waiting. Leliana tried hard not to glance at Renya, who was surveying the guardwoman with bright eyes and a small – almost hopeful – smile. The guardswoman started to nod slowly, now looking at Renya.

Anora, meanwhile, was trying to ignore the guard closest to her as he stared at her. Each moment that passed was one closer to her being recognized. She wished the Wardens would just get on with it. Cut their way out, it made no difference to her. She continued to not lok at the guard staring at her.

“Hey, you look familiar…” he finally burbled to himself. No one seemed to take notice, being too busy watching the guardswoman watch the Wardens watch her, but Anora’s head snapped to attention.

“Ser Cauthrien! Help me!” she cried, pushing past the Wardens. “They have come here to kidnap me!”

“What?” Renya and Alistair exclaimed at the same time. The guardswoman’s face twisted, as if betrayed.

“Treachery!” Ser Cauthrien yelled, drawing her sword. “Guards! Seize the Wardens! They must not escape!”

At that, Renya drew her swords and shouldered Leliana back into the hallway.

“Get her out of here!” she cried at Zevran as she watched Anora and Erlina run away amidst the confusion. She didn’t stay to see if he listened, instead jumping to Alistair’s aide.

The Wardens fought bravely, but were eventually overwhelmed. The last thing Renya saw was Zevran pulling Leliana down the hallway away from the fighting. Leliana was fighting him tooth and nail, and their eyes met briefly before Renya was bashed with a shield and the world went dark.

***

“Eamon! I may have done a terrible thing!” Anora ran into the arl’s study. It was the middle of the night, but the arl had been awake, pacing.

“May have?” Leliana fumed. “How can there be any doubt?”

“What in Andraste’s name has happened? Are you alright?”

“The Wardens have been captured!”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

“She throws her savior to the wolves, and now she has second thoughts,” Zevran grumbled, glaring at her.

“Barely met, and she betrays us!” Morrigan cried from the doorway, panting, having picked up the most important bits of the story from Leliana as she ran by. “She and my mother would get along famously.”

“The important point is that Ser Renya and Ser Alistair are being taken to Fort Drakon,” Anora continued, a flush creeping up her cheeks.

“By Ser Cauthrien!” Leliana interjected. “Whom our lady, here, was content to hand us to on a silver platter!”

“I am still waiting for a good reason to not slit her throat and dump her in the river,” Zevran supplied, crossing his arms. “I haven’t heard one yet.”

“We have precious little time for talking, then,” interrupted Wynne, having followed the commotion. “We need a plan.”

“Or a lot of knights,” said Zevran. “Or both.”

Leliana’s eyes came to rest on Morrigan. “I think I know what we can do.”

***

The cage door swung open.

“It’s ready,” the man announced while reaching in. Renya retreated as far away from the man as possible, forcing herself to not look at Alistair, standing across the room with his hands tied above his head. He was badly burned on his chest, stomach, sides, and arms.

“Oh, c’mon,” the man said. “Don’ be like that.”

Renya leaned forward, swinging the cage at him and hoping the hook holding it to the ceiling would break. But no luck. It hit the man, who went reeling backwards, but instantly a surge of guards were around her, holidng the cage and jabbing at her with sharp knives, trying to force her forward as she avoided the stabs.

Finally someone grabbed her ankle and yanked, knocking her off balance and pulling her harshly to the floor. Strong hands held her down as she struggled. Something clamped around her head, tighter and tighter, until she thought her teeth might break. A blindfold was tied around her eyes, and she felt herself forced into a chair.

She cried out as best as she could as metal spikes pressed into her back, arms, and legs, and straps were fastened tightly around her. She sat, shivering in pain, as the men finally let go of her.

“While we’re here…” one of them murmured.

Soon the air was filled with screams as the young woman Renya had seen tied to a rack was tortured. Wood creaked and joints popped as the men laughed.

“No, no… no no no no no…” came Alistair’s voice, before there was a hiss, a smell of burning flesh, and the other Warden bellowed, adding his yells to the young woman’s. This continued for a long time.

Renya closed her eyes, knowing she was next. Although what more they could do to her, she was not certain.

“One more twist…” said a man behind her, before all the straps tightened, forcing the metal spikes into her flesh. She cried out as loudly as she could, her mouth clamped shut as it was, and listened to the men’s laughter fade as she felt blood dripping down her skin. The door boomed shut.

Finally all the whimpers and moans stopped.

“Do you think anyone will come?” Alistair whispered some time later.

Tears trickled down Renya’s face, getting caught in the blindfold.

“Yes,” she hissed. “They will not forsake us.”

She must have passed out, then, because the next thing she knew the door was banging open again.

“Wakey, wakey…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go... And yes, I fixed Anora's betrayal. It always bothered me that Anora "betrays" the Warden only after the Warden breaks his/her promise to _not say who Anora is_ and then all the companions immediately jump down Anora's throat. Well, if the Warden hadn't been a jerk and broken that promise, Anora wouldn't have panicked. So... yeah, I fixed it.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I've been remiss in my posting, and I apologize. I haven't been feeling well, and this is one of the only things that can fall through the cracks without causing catastrophic problems. But the story isn't over yet! I promise to keep posting until the end, even if I'm not always consistent.
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	131. Seventh Circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning: We are still in Fort Drakon, and my mind is still a terrifying place*

Leliana walked quickly through the street of Denerim, scowling to herself. She and Morrigan were pointedly ignoring each other, catching odd glances from the people they passed, but she paid them no mind. Her anger at the witch wasn’t completely misplaced, after all.

Part of her had almost been almost relieved, but that was quickly replaced by guilt at the thought of Renya being subjected to whatever horrors were occurring in Fort Drakon. The basement of the arl’s had been bad enough. She had never really thought about where she had been imprisoned after Marjolaine’s betrayal, and the surprise at walking the same stones as two years ago had been unpleasant, to say the least. The only thing that had kept her thoughts at bay was Renya: focused, intense, determined Renya, keeping them all driving forward toward their goal.

The worst had been the room with all the lifeless bodies. In her mind’s eye she had seen Tug, dear Tug, his final defiant look still etched on his face, tied to one of the tables. But it hadn’t been Tug tied there. No, the noble son of some far-off ban, weak but still alive, had looked at her like he was seeing a spirit from the Golden City itself come to rescue him.

Renya hadn’t questioned – or commented – when Leliana had sidled next to her after the man had limped away and they had continued on. Indeed, the elf had simply acknowledged her presence with a quiet, “Vhenan?” Upon Leliana’s brusque nod, she had squeezed her fingers and moved on to the next poor victim, another Grey Warden. She had lost track of the conversation, staring at the back of Renya’s head as if memorizing the curly hair escaping from its bun would steady her.

And now…

 _No,_ Leliana thought firmly. She decided a long time ago that she would face down dragons for Renya. If she had to face down another dungeon, she would do so without hesitation. Maker preserve her.

Maker preserve them all.

***

“Faster, rabbit!”

“Let her go,” Alistair rasped, his voice cracking.

She wished he wouldn’t say anything. Every time he tried to keep their new keepers from harming her, he wound up on the receiving end of their anger. They didn’t let her go, either, so she didn’t know why he still bothered.

“What did you say, traitor?” One of the guards picked up a wooden slat and advanced. Alistair’s eyes met Renya’s for a moment; the elf shook her head pleadingly from where she knelt on the ground. He looked sad for a moment, then turned to face the guard as he swung.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“I don’t see you moving, knife-ear…”

A swift kick to her gut caused Renya to collapse.

Thump. Thump. Thump. A slight cough of pain.

“Get up!”

But Renya wasn’t able to move fast enough, instead getting pulled across the floor by the leash attached to the collar tight around her neck. She eventually scrambled to her hands and knees again, wincing. They had healed the wounds on her back just enough so she could move, but she noticed that she was still leaving a trail of blood behind her.

“What’s the matter, rabbit? Cat got your tongue?” the guard taunted.

Thump. Thump. Thump. A groan.

Renya glared at him, the cloth gag muffling anything she said in response.

“What? I can’t hear you? Or did you not learn to talk yet?”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

With her pulse thundering in her ears, Renya did the only thing she could think of to make it all stop. With a muffled yell, she pulled herself to her feet and launched herself at the guard. She managed to get in three good punches before she heard the clatter of the wooden slat and was jerked back onto the floor by the leash. Rough hands grabbed her, and the collar choked her as the guard held the leash down against the stones. Something sharp jabbed at her ear, and just as suddenly she was in the air, kicking and swinging her arms. Alistair was yelling something, but no one was paying him any mind anymore as they shoved Renya back into her spiked chair and tightened the straps. The last thing she saw before they put the blindfold back on her was Alistair, still tied with his hands above his head, still sporting burns from heated pokers, and now sporting purple and blue bruises on his chest. He coughed, and a little bit of blood came out of his mouth.

The gag was taken out of her mouth as they reattached the squeezing device to her head.

“Fen’harel take you,” she slurred through her teeth and the contraption tightened. “Fen’harel take you all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened.  
> ...The next chapter will go up tomorrow, I promise.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	132. Late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Reminder: We're still in Fort Drakon*

“Have I mentioned how much I hate you?” Morrigan commented as they walked through the streets of Denerim in matching lay sister habits.

They had been turned away three days ago, and Oghren and Zevran had failed to deceive their way into the fort that night. Wynne had tried to charm her way in after breaking the fast the next day, saying she was bringing scarves for the guards, but apparently the captain of the guard did not think his men needed to be warm.

Nyviel had then tried sneaking in under the guise of delivering Elgar to the kennels, and had almost been successful, but the mabari almost attacked one of the guards when he mentioned the Wardens; the two had barely made it out of the fort alive. She had been close to inconsolable after that, and Leliana had spent most of the night in her room, trying to keep her own feelings at bay as Nyviel cried into her shoulder.

So now she and Morrigan were trying again this morning, now that another guard shift had begun. It had been the longest three days they had ever experienced. And, as everyone knew but no one said, they had been even longer for the Wardens.

“Not recently, no,” Leliana replied. “Remember, Morrigan, you are supposed to be a servant of the Chant.”

“What shall I do? Deceive people?”

“I’d settle for you holding your tongue and letting me do the talking this time.”

“As you wish.”

The two women came to a halt in front of the great fort. Leliana steeled herself. She was armed with her two blades underneath her robes, and Morrigan always had her magic, but charming their way into a heavily-guarded fort was going to take more than just a little skill.

“Are we ready?” Leliana whispered.

“For the Warden,” Morrigan murmured back. They approached the gates.

“And what do you lot want?” grumbled one of the guards.

“We are here to pray for the poor souls here. There is a condemned prisoner who needs to receive the last rights,” Leliana said, clasping her hands in front of her. She tried not to smile when she saw Morrigan do the same.

“We already have a Revered Mother for that,” the guard said. “Begone with you!”

“But surely there are many here who need to balm of the Maker’s grace. It is too much for one woman. Well, since we are here… Let us pray, Sister.” And she knelt, rocking. Morrigan followed her with a barely audible sigh.

“Oh, hear our cry, O Maker!” Morrigan called jerkily. “Protect those who follow you with your grace, and forgive these godless men. Keep them safe from… diseases… and…boils… and… lesions…”

“May the grace of your Blessed Bride, Andraste, find its way into the hearts of all people, including these men,” Leliana interrupted. “That they may find peace in their greatest hours of need, though they do not allow that comfort to those in their care…”

“Alright, alright. Maker, you can go in. I’ll bring you to see the captain of the guard. He’ll know what to do with you.” The guard led them inside and down a little hallway. “Now wait here, and don’t make trouble.”

“See? It’s working,” Leliana whispered when he’d gone.

“For the time being,” Morrigan said. “I must admit I am impressed we have gotten this far,” she added grudgingly.

“Everyone trusts priests. It is only natural.”

“If you believe that, you are a bigger fool than those guards…”

“Shush, someone is coming!”

“What’s the problem here? Oh, good afternoon, Sisters,” the captain of the guard said. “I was called here because of two Chantry sisters wishing to pray over the imprisoned?” He shook his head. “Go in, if it pleases you. I have more important things to concern myself with than the whims of you holy nutjobs.”

Morrigan tried to suppress her grin. They were led into a large room full of guards and unused ballistae.

“We need a plan,” Leliana said, nodding at the lone woman guarding the door.

“I suggest we act quickly,” Morrigan hissed back, her voice sounding strained. “They may be leading our Warden to her death as we speak!”

“Did you hear what happened to Ser Cauthrien?” one of the guards commented to his fellow. With a smile at Morrigan, Leliana walked over.

“Pardon me, but I was curious…”

“Yes?” one of the guards asked.

“You are off-duty, no?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do you spend time here, rather than relaxing in the city or taking time in the guard room?”

“I’m sure there are other places we could be…” said one guard, glancing at the guard by the door.

“But you never know when you might be needed,” the other offered with a little cough.

“Oh,” Leliana said, faking surprise. “That is very diligent of you. I am glad to hear it has nothing to do with the pretty sergeant over there.”

“Well, the scenery is nice,” the first guard offered. His friend looked at him in shock.

“What? I didn’t know you were eyeing Tanna!”

“Well I… wait. You poacher! You’ve been looking at her, too?”

“I’ve been posted here longer than you have! You’re the poacher, you mangy little runt!”

Leliana stepped back as the men fell on each other, swords drawn. Other guards joined the fray.

“I almost feel bad for doing that,” Leliana said, watching as the sergeant ran over to break up the men.

“You should,” Morrigan said as they walked through the now-unguarded door. “’Tis exactly what I would have done. Bravo.”

They walked through the next room without incident, and stopped before a narrow flight of stairs. Cries of pain could be heard floating on the air.

“Let us be swift,” Morrigan whispered before charging down the stairs. Leliana followed her closely, swallowing the lump in her throat.

They passed cell after cell, peeking in to each and hurrying on when it was neither Renya nor Alistair they saw lying in a heap on the ground. Each one twisted Leliana’s stomach, but they had to press on. They eventually turned a corner and entered a huge torture chamber. Tied to a nearby rack was a woman about their age, badly bruised and breathing shallowly, but alive. Leliana’s breath caught, but it was not Renya.

“Warden!” Morrigan cried, running to the other side of the room.

There, strapped to a chair beneath an empty cage, was the Warden. She was bound tightly, with a blindfold over her eyes and covered by nothing but her smallclothes. Blood was seeping onto the floor, and Leliana noticed with disgust that the chair had metal spikes driven into the seat, back, and arms. Even more cruelly, someone had jabbed a metal spike through one of her ears, the one already sporting a scar. A metal band was secured around the Warden’s head, keeping her jaw clenched tightly. Her forehead was also tied to the chair, ensuring her complete immobility. And, as if to add further insult, someone had clasped a collar around her neck, to which was attached a lead for a dog.

“Morrigan?” Renya hissed through her teeth. “Lethallan?”

“Get her out of this chair,” Morrigan demanded, untying the blindfold. She gasped. The Warden’s eyes were bloodshot, and the band on her head seemed much tighter than needed to simply keep her mouth shut. A gear on the side indicated that it could be tightened quite a bit more. Morrigan felt sick, wishing she could expedite the process of freeing the Warden. She grabbed the spike in her ear.

“Be quick…” Renya whispered, closing her eyes as Morrigan gently held the bloody ear in her other hand.

“I’m sorry, Warden,” she murmured before pulling the piece of metal out in one motion. Renya yelled through her teeth in pain, eyes screwed shut.

“Ma serannas,” she finally managed, breathing heavily and holding Morrigan’s gaze. Morrigan nodded, her face pale, and set about removing the collar.

“You’re safe now, my love,” Leliana whispered, keeping the tears from running down her face as she fumbled with the locks on the leather buckles.

“Alistair…” the Warden managed.

“We haven’t found him yet,” Leliana said, moving to free Renya’s arms after undoing the ties on her legs.

“Up… They took him…”

“Hush, we’ll get you both out of here,” Leliana said soothingly.

“Hurry,” Morrigan said, glancing over her shoulder. “Someone is coming.”

“Go. Now…” Renya hissed through her clenched jaw.

Leliana touched Renya’s face gently before working on the mechanism around her head. The bloodshot eyes were haunted as they stared at her.

“Vhenan…”

Finally the elf was free. Morrigan and Leliana pulled her gently from the chair, and Renya hissed in pain as she collapsed on the floor.

“Go,” Renya croaked, panting. “Find Alistair. Brought him to the roof. They are…”

“Renya, please. Be still. We have to stop the bleeding…”

Renya grabbed Leliana’s arms and looked at her pleadingly. “Leave me. They are going to execute Alistair!”

Silence.

“We need to go,” Morrigan said urgently.

“No,” Leliana replied stubbornly. “Not without Renya.” But the Warden was looking at Morrigan hopefully.

“Go, lethallan. You have to save him. Please… Lelia…” Renya reached a trembling, bloody hand toward Leliana, but checked her movement before she touched her cheek. “You have to save him.” A tear trickled down her cheek.

Finally Leliana nodded. She fished under her robes, pulled out one of her daggers, and pressed it into Renya’s hand.

“We’ll come back for you, my love,” she whispered.

“I know. Go!”

She watched the two women run back up the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself to her feet with a groan and stumbled over to the woman on the rack and began cutting her bonds. The woman opened her eyes and looked at Renya blearily.

“You’re free?” she slurred. Renya nodded silently, slicing at the thick ropes that tied her ankles.

“You will be, too. Soon, falon,” she said. The ropes popped, and Renya switched to cutting the ropes at the human’s wrists.

“Where will you go?” the human asked. “Now that you’re free?”

“I might go find an inn and ask them to serve me chocolate pudding. Although I am quite naked,” Renya added, trying to smile and making her jaw throb. “So maybe I will go to the Pearl. You?”

The human managed a watery chuckle. “I may join you, friend. I would much rather share a meal with you than screams.”

They were quiet, suddenly solemn at the memories of listening to the other’s cries of pain while they were tortured in turns.

“You are free, falon.”

Gingerly the human brought her arms down to her sides and sat up with a groan. Renya helped her stand. The human was tall, taller than Leliana and Morrigan; she might have been as tall as Alistair. Her dirty-blonde hair went down to the middle of her back, and her blue eyes took in the room around them.

“Let us find some clothes, friend,” the human said. They slowly made their way toward one of the doors. “I never heard your name.”

“Renya Mahariel,” the elf said with a wince, once of her many wounds stinging as she limped across the floor. “I am a Grey Warden.”

“Well met,” the human said, leaning on her a little. “I am Elissa Cousland, from Highever. My father was the arl there, before Rendon Howe betrayed us,” she finished in a growl.

“We have a common enemy, then,” Renya observed. They found a pile of clothes in the next room and sorted through them, trying not to think about whether the owners of the tunics, pants, and boots they took were still alive or not. Renya found another tunic and ripped it up, tying the pieces as tightly as she could around her arms and winding other pieces around her back and legs, trying to stop the bleeding.

Elissa eyed the dagger in Renya’s hand. “Are you searching for Howe?” she asked.

“I am searching for Alistair, the other Grey Warden. The man who was… with us. He was sent to be executed today.”

“I know a shortcut to the roof,” Elissa said. She started walking toward where Leliana and Morrigan had left. “I’ll explain everything along the way.”

***

Up two flights of stairs, the Warden and Elissa found themselves cornered in a little room full of guards.

“I suppose you won’t just let us go?” Elissa asked with forced kindess. “No? I didn’t think so.”

She fell on them with her fists, and Renya did her best to twirl around with Leliana’s dagger. She disarmed one of the men.

“Elissa!” she cried, sliding the sword over to her. The human grabbed the sword with a groan, but heaved it at her attacker. Soon the guards lay dead. Renya drooped, and Elissa grabbed her before falling to her knees herself.

“Watch out,” Renya quipped weakly as the two knelt on the floor, gasping and bleeding. “Here we come to save the day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm...
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	133. Unexpected Execution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning: STILL in Fork Drakon. Also, something happens (almost) that causes Leliana to call a man a dog, so take from that what you will and be warned.*

Leliana and Morrigan ran up staircase after staircase until they came to a door with sunlight leaking in around its edges.

“Let us finish this,” Morrigan whispered. They opened the door slowly, peeking out, before they silently crept outside, unnoticed by the guards.

Morrigan’s breath caught. Alistair was standing tied to a post, blindfolded and in nothing but an old piece of cloth wrapped around his waist for decency’s sake, before two archers. Much of the skin on his chest and arms was badly burned, blistered, and peeling.

A weasly man with grey hair was standing in front of him. The women ran forward, not noticing the door open and shut behind them.

“And you thought calling a Landsmeet would stop us?” the man sneered. “Anora has lost her little game, and Loghain will prevail. Pity you traitors will not be around to see the greatness that Ferelden will become under our rule!”

“Our rule?” Alistair echoed. “I didn’t realize you and Loghain were getting married.” He tisked. “Remind me to send a fruit basket.”

The older man’s face turned purple. “Aim!” he cried, stepping out of the way. The archers pulled back on their arrows, and Alistair stiffened, turning his head a little. The man watched him with a growing sneer.

“Fire!”

One lone arrow flew far off course, arcing over the battlement. The man turned, confused, and saw an elf with tattoos on her face standing over a dead archer, his throat slit, while Elissa Cousland stood over the other one, who was lying on the ground and already sporting a bruise where the woman had bashed him with the pommel of the sword she was holding.

“Rendon Howe!” Elissa cried angrily. “Traitor!” Her glare turned ferocious when she saw the sword he pulled from his hip.

“That is my father’s sword!” she yelled, springing at him. “How dare you!”

“Alistair!” Renya cried, stumbling forward.

“Renya?”

But a scream caught her attention and she turned in time to see Morrigan fall following a blow to the back of her head before the soldier turned and grabbed Leliana’s legs as she was carried off by another guard.

“I will be right back!” the elf amended, hobbling after Leliana.

“I’ll be here,” Alistair answered, wincing as the sound of the swordfight came closer to him.

Renya was losing ground as the guards hurried down the stairs. She was panting by the time she got to the bottom and colors were popping in front of her eyes, but Leliana’s screams encouraged her to keep going. She eventually stumbled into a large room and stopped in the doorway for only a moment before her anger took over.

On the floor lay Leliana, one man pinning her arms above her head while the other had his legs on hers, pinning them far apart. A very broad-shouldered woman was holding her ankles, watching Leliana struggle and licking her lips.

They had ripped off her Chantry robe to expose her bardic armor, and the man’s hands were slithering up under the skirt of it. Leliana, for all her struggling, was trapped where she was.

“Let go of me!” she yelled. “You dogs!”

“I like when they fight back,” he said, finding the band of her smallclothes.

Renya launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind. The man bellowed and reared back, throwing her off easily.

“Oof!”

The elf hit a barrel, which smashed under the force, and Leliana’s dagger went flying across the room as it was knocked from her hand. She opened a bleary eye and saw the man get up, rolling up his sleeves as he advanced.

“You…!” He ran at her, hands oustretched.

At the last momet, Renya noticed she was sitting in a pile of swords and grabbed one at random. She tried to keep her eyes open, but she had lost more blood than she cared to think about and the room was swimming before her. She took a deep breath, then heaved the sword up. She winced, squinting her eyes shut in pain at the sudden movement.

A squish, followed by a sickly gurgle, caused her to force her eyes open. The man was impaled on the sword. He fell to the floor.

“Curse…you…”

Leliana, meanwhile, capitalized on the distraction by wrenching one of her legs out of the woman’s grasp and kicking her in the nose, breaking it and sending her reeling backward with a muttered curse. Before the man holding her arms could react, she brough her legs up and grabbed his head with them. After a brief struggle and a few twists, Leliana heard a sickening snap and the man collapsed next to her, dead. She jumped to her feet. The other woman had recovered and was glaring at Leliana through watering eyes.

“You filthy Orlesian whore…” she growled.

Leliana matched her glare and advanced, but an elf appeared on her back before she reached her.

“Do not,” Renya snarled, her fingers wrapped around the woman’s throat. “Call her that.”

The woman lumbered around, slamming herself backwards into one of the pillars, but Renya hung on, teeth bared and eyes flashing, her strength returned for the moment.

“Why not?” gasped the woman, reaching behind her and finding Renya’s injured ear. She dug her nails into it and pulled. “She is only good for one thing: to be broken in for… our…”

The woman’s voice became more stranged, for upon hearing the word “broken” Renya pressed her fingers more forcefully into the woman’s soft flesh, no longer feeling the pain in her body.

The woman fell to her knees, feebly trying to get the elf off her, before falling forward with a dull thunk. Renya stood up, face twisted in fury as she spat on her, and then collapsed. Leliana ran over and turned her so she was lying face-up in her lap.

“Renya? Renya?” She tapped the elf’s cheek. “Renya, wake up… Please, my love…”

Renya’s eyes fluttered open. “’m here, vhen’n,” the elf slurred. “Alistair…?”

“I’m not going to leave you.”

Renya gripped Leliana’s shoulder and pulled herself to a kneeling position before forcing herself to her feet. She swayed where she stood. “Bring me back.”

“Renya…”

“Bring me back. Now.”

Leliana startled, but even covered in blood, even with her eyes dim, the determination and anger in the elf was palpable. Against her better judgment, Leliana helped the elf up the stairs, grabbing her thrown dagger on the way.

***

“How dare you!” Elissa yelled, swinging her sword at Howe. “How dare you betray my father! My mother! They were your friends!”

“My dear Elissa,” Howe said, blocking her erratic blows easily. “They did not see true power when it presented itself. Associating with the likes of Duncan? Too bad his order betrayed our country. And your poor brother…”

Elissa hesitated for barely a moment before her face twisted into a snarl.

“Liar!” she bellowed, swinging at him.

“Do you want to know how they died?” he mocked, swinging at her. “Your mother begged for mercy, and your father was helpless to save her.”

“I will not listen to you!” the human screamed, charging again. “I have no place in my heart for your lies! You killed them and captured me!” A swing. “You took their lands and their titles, saying I was dead!” Another swing. “You betrayed them for your own gain!” Finally, the blade made contact, jabbing into Howe’s shoulder. The arl dropped the Cousland sword and Elissa was on it in an instant, all injuries forgotten. She stabbed him with it as she stood up and watched as he fell to the ground.

“Traitor!” She took a few deep breaths. “I was excited to meet your son, you know. But he is nothing like you. _You_ are nothing.”

“You… you…” The anger in his eyes lasted until the end. “I… deserved… more…” And he collapsed on the cold stones, blood pooling around him.

Elissa turned in time to see a pretty redhaired woman help the Grey Warden Renya onto the roof. A woman with black hair, who had been on the ground, was sitting up and shaking her head experimentally. The elf stumbled over to Alistair, pulling away from the woman holding her.

“Lethallin,” she said, instinctively reaching for a belt but finding none there.

“Here.” The redhead was by her side in an instant, pulling one of the daggers from her belt. Elissa recognized it as of the same kind the elf had in the dungeon, and watched as the woman deftly cut the man’s bonds. He fell forward and the two women helped him sit on the ground. The black-haired woman came over, a little unsteady on her feet.

“You are alright,” she commented to the man. Her gold eyes swept over to Renya. “Both of you.”

“Yes.” Renya looked up at Elissa. “Thank you, falon.” She removed Alistair’s blindfold. “This is Alistair, the other Grey Warden I told you about. And Leliana,” she said, her words beginning to slur again as her vision swam. “And… and Morrigan…”

***

When she opened her eyes, she was in a room she did not recognize, but the bed was soft and the sun coming in the windows was warm. She was lying on her stomach, and when she turned her head she saw Elissa in a bed next to hers, fast asleep. Across the room lay Alistair, snoring gently.

“Where am I?” she asked the room.

“You are currently in a bed at the arl’s, and I am reminded of one of our first meetings.”

Renya looked down at the foot of the bed, and Morrigan swam into view. She managed a small chuckle before wincing.

“Your things are over there, if that concens you as much now as it did then,” the witch added with a small nod to an armor stand, holding the leather armor that Renya had worn under the guard armor when they went to save the queen.

“Thank you, Morrigan. No large bird this time to pluck us to safety, though?”

Morrigan laughed. “No, I’m afraid not. This time ‘twas only I… a much smaller bird, perhaps, but enough to send a message to bring reinforcements.”

“Ma serannas, lethallan.”

Morrigan’s heart jumped into her throat. How the elf looked at her – sisters, Morrigan heard herself say again. This elf trusted her, honestly, openly… foolishly.

The witch rose. “I was to alert Leliana the moment you were awake. Nyviel pulled her away to eat something; she will be most displeased to find you did not do her the courtesy of sleeping until she returned.”

“Ma nuvenin,” Renya replied, gingerly turning onto her side and settling onto her pillows. Morrigan left, quietly shutting the door. Renya listened to Alistair’s snores and Elissa’s deep breathing, letting herself be soothed by the steady rhythms.

“I like this bed better than my last one,” Elissa opined from beside Renya a little while later, eyes still closed. “But I haven’t gotten any chocolate pudding yet.”

Renya smiled. She was about to respond when the door was flung open and Leliana ran in, throwing herself onto the bed next to Renya.

“Lelia – ow!” She winced when the bard embraced her, touching one of the many wounds on her back. They were covered, and healing, but still tender.

“I’m sorry,” Leliana said, instead gently taking Renya’s face in her hands and kissing her forehead. She stood as Wynne entered the room.

“And how are you all this afternoon?” she asked.

Elissa and Renya murmured affirmative responses. Alistair sat up, his stomach rumbling. “I’m a little hungry,” he offered. Wynne chuckled.

“You are allowed out of your bed, Alistair, as I told you last night. Your burns and injuries are mostly healed,” the mage said dotingly. Her gaze fell onto Elissa, who sat up.

“I feel much better, my lady,” she said politely. “I would not have healed so well without you.”

“You are quite welcome. I’m glad to see you are better.” Wynne turned to Renya as Alistair got up, grumbling, and grabbed a tunic and trousers before marching off to find a washroom. Elissa, smiling, followed his lead. “Whatever pierced your skin had a coating on it. The wounds will heal, but slowly,” she said with a little apology. “You should rest. That other Warden, Riorden, does not seem to think that the archdemon is on its way to Denerim in the immediate future, and the Blight is still a safe distance away.” She pursed her lips together as Renya tried to sit up, groaning, before looking at Leliana.

“Make sure she rests today.”

“I will, Wynne.”

“Good. I will be back later to change your bandages.”

“Ma serannas, Wynne.” Renya waited until the mage was gone before trying to sit up again.

“You heard her,” Leliana said reproachfully. “You must stay in bed. Or I may have to tie you to it.”

“I am much too injured for that,” Renya deadpanned. Leliana looked shocked, but then laughed.

“Oh, well, in that case, I shall have to keep you occupied in other ways!” she said, leaning in. Renya’s stomach gave a loud gurgle and Leliana pulled away. “Perhaps by getting you something to eat, first.”

“My stomach can wait,” Renya protested. Leliana laughed again, kissed her gently, and then floated out of the room to the kitchens.

Alistair came back in, dressed in a simple tunic and trousers.

“That Elissa is something, isn’t she?” he asked, sitting down on his bed again and pulling on stockings and boots.

“I suppose so?”

“We spent a lot of time talking while you were asleep, and…” He trailed off happily. Renya arched an eyebrow at him. “She’s so nice, and… we have a lot in common. Did you know that she thought about joining the Grey Wardens? But she decided to stay at home with her parents. How different would that be, hm? You and me and another Grey Warden all traveling around Ferelden together…”

“I wonder how Duncan could have been in so many places at once,” Renya reflected. “It was a miracle he was in the Brecilian forest. Perhaps if he had been recruiting Elissa, I… would be like Tamlen,” she said quietly.

“Don’t say that,” Alistair said sharply. “It’s not like there can only be one other Warden in Ferelden besides me.”

“You are right, Alistair. That was a crazy thought,” Renya allowed. She pulled herself to her feet and padded slowly down the hallway, looking for Leliana. She rounded a corner and found her, balancing two bowls in her hands, one for her and the other, presumably, for Alistair.

Elissa intercepted her.

“It seems I owe you thanks for my rescue, too, my lady,” she said gently.

Leliana smiled but shook her head. “It was Renya who untied you, not me, Lady Cousland.”

“You are Orlesian?” Elissa asked with interest. She took one of the bowls from Leliana before taking her hand and kissing it gently. “Enchanté. Je suis heureux de faire votre connaissance.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Leliana replied in the common tongue before removing her hand. “I didn’t know you spoke Orlesian, Lady Cousland.”

“My mother insisted I learn it.” The taller woman looked sad for a moment, then shook her head. “I am pleased for it now, though.”

“Indeed. It is good our countries are no longer at war, no?” Leliana took a step as if to continue down the hall. “If you’ll excuse me, Lady Cousland.”

“We do not need to be so formal,” the human noble continued, stepping in front of Leliana and blocking her again. She brushed a piece of hair out of Leliana’s face and tucked it behind her ear. “You may call me Elissa.”

Leliana was relieved when Renya appeared next to her.

“There you are, vhenan,” Renya said, kissing Leliana on the cheek. “Let me take that for you,” she continued, taking the other bowl and wrapping her arm around the bard’s waist. She smiled at Elissa, pretending to not notice her shocked expression.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” Leliana asked playfully.

“Only if you are coming back,” Renya murmured, nuzzling Leliana’s neck. The bard giggled, blushing at Renya’s antics in front of this person they did not know, but she was also thoroughly pleased.

“Oh,” Elissa said, taken aback. “You… I didn’t…” She cleared her throat. “Let me return this to Alistair, then,” she said stiffly. “I’m sure he’s hungry.” And she turned on her heel and hurried down the hallway.

Renya humphed after her, satisfied. Leliana pressed into her a little.

“You are not the only one who does not like to share,” Renya murmured, letting Leliana help her back down the hallway, seeing and echoing the bard’s pleased grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Made it! 
> 
> So Elissa Cousland made it into the story! That's neat, right? Also, apologies for the poorly translated Orlesian again. Elissa is just telling Leliana she's pleased to make her acquaintance.
> 
> I admit, the only "canon" (if you can call it that) Leliana romances I have are f!Cousland and f!Mahariel, although I can see a m!Mahariel vying for her and Morrigan. Anyway, it was with that in mind that I conceived Elissa's interaction with Leliana, in case you were wondering.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	134. A Moment

“And when Alindra has cried enough, she will be reunited with her soldier-love, forever this time,” Leliana finished softly, smiling down at the elf contentedly asleep in her lap. Elissa and Alistair, needing only rest now, had been moved back to their own rooms. At Leliana’s insistence, Renya, too, was back in the room that the arl had set aside for her. She had taken to nursing Renya back to health, as well, learning to change the bandages so Wynne did not need to do so, bringing her meals, and helping her when she needed to walk somewhere in the large estate.

She sighed, stroking Renya’s soft hair and leaning against the headboard of the bed. Considering their ordeal, the Wardens had made a spectacular recovery. Even Elissa, who had spent a longer time at the fort, seemed much better, and she and Alistair had begun spending a lot of time together, walking in the gardens or, more recently, gently sparring in the courtyard. A knock on the door caused Renya to stir.

“Hm? Come in…” she said sleepily before Leliana could say anything. The door opened to reveal Anora.

“Oh!” She took a small step backward, seeing Renya’s head resting in Leliana’s lap. The elf sat up with a groan.

“I… I apologize for waking you,” Anora said. “I only… I only wanted to say that I did not expect you to react the way you did at the arl’s estate. I… I wanted to thank you…”  
  
Leliana glared at her and Anora faltered a little. “I think… it’s best if… I am sorry for my actions,” she added quietly. “I panicked, and I should have trusted you to handle the situation.”

Renya nodded stiffly.

“I… would like for us to start over,” Anora continued. “When you have a moment, please come see me in Eamon’s study. We have much to plan, yet.”

“She needs her rest,” Leliana spat.

“Atisha, Lelia,” Renya said softly. “I will be there soon.”

“As you are able, Warden.” And the queen left.

Renya sighed and began to stand up. Leliana helped her, although she was very vocal about her annoyance at Anora.

“She has the nerve to ask for your help again, after what she did?” Leliana fumed, helping the Warden step into her dark brown pantaloons and pull a tunic over her head before the Warden put on her Dalish robes.

“The Blight did not end because Alistair and I were captured, vhenan,” Renya said, slowly walking down the hallway, wincing with each step. Leliana helped her, but was turned away at the door of Eamon’s study.

“We need to speak with the Wardens privately,” Eamon insisted. Renya nodded, smiling as Leliana walked away in a huff, consumed with worry.

“We have been praying for your recovery, Warden,” Anora said.

“Thank the Maker you are alright. Both of you,” Eamon said, indicating Alistair and she should sit.

“Thank Leliana and Morrigan we’re alright,” Alistair said with a grumble.

“And Wynne,” Renya added, wincing as she sat.

“The Wardens need cushions, Erlina. Please,” Anora said to her handmaiden, who nodded and hurried off. She was back minutes later, and Renya heaved herself off the chair and let the other elf arrange the pillows for her, before gingerly sitting down again. Erlina repeated her actions with Alistair.

“We will need to work together, and quickly,” the queen said once they were all seated again. “My father has gone mad. I didn’t believe it at first, but he is gripped by a paranoia so severe it prevents him from seeing sense.”

“Like with his betrayal of your husband?” Alistair said. Anora sighed, looking sad.

“Yes. And he saw me as a threat, yet even now I am certain he will be telling the nobles you are dangerous murderers that have kidnapped and mind-controlled me.”

“That couldn’t be because you told Cauthrien we had kidnapped you, could it?” Renya asked grumpily.

Anora sighed again. “I have said I am sorry. What more do you wish of me?”

Neither Renya nor Alistair answered her, both continuing to glare at the queen.

“The point is, he will most likely be lying to his followers. But the worst part is, he may even believe his own falsehoods,” she added sadly.

“But without your support he will not be able to take the throne, will he?” Renya asked.

The queen shook her head. “He might. It will be more difficult, but if he says the Grey Wardens are the enemy, many will believe him. He is a legend, after all.”

“This is unfortunately true,” Eamon added. “Our position in the Landsmeet is not strong, and this does… little to help us.”

“At least that snake _Howe_ is dead,” Anora spat. “But nothing will stop my father on his path. You will need ammunition against him. You have only just arrived in the city, so perhaps you are unaware of some… recent events…”

***

Renya’s head was throbbing by the time she left the arl’s room. The alienage, walled off from the rest of the city, was not only victim to a mysterious plague, but the former arl of Denerim had caused an uprising among the elves. The unrest only increased after Ostegar. Renya suspected it has something to do with the “petition to the king” the city elf in Howe’s dungeon had mentioned. She rubbed her vallaslin. Anora, instead, believed that Loghain and Howe had done something to inflame the elves even more.

And then Eamon had suggested that Alistair and Anora marry when Anora put in a bid for the throne. This, he said, would put Maric’s blood back on the throne while keeping the popular queen in power. She could still hear them arguing behind the closed door.

She was wandering down the hallway when she bumped into Zevran.

“Oh! Renya! I am glad to see you are up and about,” he said politely. He went to embrace her, but checked himself. “Ah, Leliana mentioned you are still injured. I owe you an enthusiastic but completely platonically-meant hug once you are better.” He grinned and Renya returned it.

“I’m glad to see you are safe, as well, Zev.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “And thank you for… for keeping Leliana safe.”

“It is the least I could do, my lovely Warden,” the Antivan said with a wink. “I am always more than happy to put my arms around a beautiful woman…”

“Right…” But she smiled. “Where are Sten and Oghren? I haven’t seen them since we arrived.”

“Ah. The arl asked them to help train the soldiers. I think they are equal parts amused and irritated by the human’s skills, being the great qunari and fearsome dwarven warriors that they are,” Zevran answered, deepening his voice a little as he described their friends. Renya laughed.

“There you are!” Leliana said, coming down the hall. “I have been looking all over for you. Wynne says it is time for your bandages to be changed again.”

“Lucky me,” Renya grumbled.

“I will see you soon, my lovely Warden.”

Renya followed Leliana down the hall, filling her in on what she had heard from Anora and Eamon. Leliana was looking thoughtful.

“It would be a good marriage, a powerful political alliance,” she said. Her face fell. “But poor Alistair, marrying that… that… _woman_ …”

They went into Renya’s room, where someone – probably Wynne – had set up the new bandages and cream. Leliana closed the door and indicated the bed, and Renya removed her robes and lay prone on it. A clean sheet had already been laid out on it. The elf sighed.

Leliana began to delicately remove the bandages, her heart thumping as she saw the meticulously-aligned holes across Renya’s back, arms, and legs. Renya hissed in pain every so often when one of the punctures wasn’t as healed as the rest, and Leliana swallowed, remembering that Wynne told her to let the injuries bleed until she had uncovered all of them.

“I’m sorry, my love,” she whispered.

“Me, too,” Renya replied through gritted teeth. “This is not how I look best unclothed, let me tell you.”

Leliana laughed in spite of herself. “How can you joke about this?”

“I am lying half-naked on a bed with a beautiful woman staring down at me.” She glanced behind her as much as she could, trying to catch Leliana’s eye. “The bed is in a room with tapestries on the walls and colored glass in the windows. The woman is the most beautiful one in all of Thedas. The half-naked person on the bed is a fearsome Dalish elf. It could be a story,” Renya said, settling her head back onto her pillow. “The only catch is that the beautiful woman is staring at the fearsome Dalish elf after the elf’s impression of being a pincushion. What about this is not hysterically funny?”

Leliana managed a light laugh and leaned forward, kissing the back of her neck, which was the only part exposed that wasn’t covered in cuts.

“This might sting a little, my love,” she whispered, dipping a cloth into a basin of blue liquid before dabbing it onto the elf’s skin.

Renya’s whole body tensed, the liquid burning as Leliana continued to gently apply it.

“I’m sorry,” the bard murmured again.

“It is just cold,” Renya insisted curtly.

Leliana eventually removed the cloth and picked up the bottle of thick salve Wynne had given her. “Almost done, my love,” she said as she rubbed the cream gently into Renya’s skin.

“Don’t move so much,” she scolded her a few minutes later.

“I cannot help it. It itches, and this feels good.”

Leliana rubbed a little harder and Renya sighed in relief. Soon she was covered in the pale yellow salve and bandaged up again. Renya sat up and put her clothes back on before rising and sitting delicately on one of the benches near the window. She watched Leliana wash her hands in a basin of water and then waved her over.

“Come here…”

Leliana walked over. “What is –oh!”

Renya pulled her onto her lap and held her tightly. Leliana tried to get up, but Renya held her fast.

“Don’t be silly, love. You’re still injured!”

“This doesn’t hurt,” Renya said stubbornly, ignoring the throb in her legs resulting from the extra pressure of Leliana sitting on them. She kissed Leliana, smiled, then kissed her again. “It is making me feel better, actually,” she murmured, leaning up to kiss the bard once more.

A knock on the door interrupted them. Leliana stood up and Renya sighed.

“Come in,” she said. The door opened and one of the servants stood in the doorway.

“It is almost time for supper, messere. M’lady,” he added, giving Leliana a little bow.

“How does royalty get anything done with servants knocking on the door all the time?” Renya asked, donning her robes once again. She offered her arm to Leliana. “My lady,” she said with a mischievous grin.

“You are too much,” the bard replied, slapping her arm but taking it all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few moments of peace are not so wrong, are they?
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	135. An Engagement

“Anora?”

“Oh, hello, Warden. Won’t you come in?”

“I… heard you and Alistair reached an arrangement.”

“Yes. I believe he is pouting about it at this very moment. I swear, he is so like Cailan it is… disturbing, actually. How can I marry my husband’s brother?” she asked, staring past Renya. She roused herself. “But yes, we have reached… an arrangement. Was that all you wished to know?”

“No, I want to know about your father.”

“My father? He has gone mad…”

“No,” the elf said, sitting down without being invited. “Before that. You said he was a legend. But… but before that, too.”

“When he was just my father?” Anora said with a small smile. Renya nodded as Anora sat down across from her.

“He was… a wonderful man,” she began wistfully. “So noble. He always taught me that it didn’t matter if an idea was popular, so long as it was right and for the good of the country. And he loved my mother…” She smiled at her lap. “She had a garden, and one day he came home from one of her journeys and presented her with a rosebush. His men said that he had ridden with it in his saddle-bag, the thorns pricking into his leg, because he wanted to be the one to give it to her. He wore bandages for weeks after that.”

Renya smiled at the story.

“And he would braid my hair, and was the one I went to for… everything,” Anora whispered. “Scraped knees and nightmares and…” she trailed off, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I hate seeing him like this…” She shook her head, clearing her throat. “But he must be stopped. It is what the country needs,” she concluded, her voice and eyes becoming hard again. Looking at Renya again, she added, “Was there anything else you wished to know?”

Renya shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “No, that was all.”

“What of your father?” Anora posed. “What is he like?”

The elf considered her for a moment. “He was the keeper of my clan. He died protecting my mother and me.” She was quiet, somber. “I never knew him, but I am told that he was a good man.”

“I am sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine what it would be like to lose your father like that,” Anora said with surprising gentleness. She cleared her throat again and rose. “Unless there is anything else, I must begin solidifying our strategy for the Landsmeet. I would also suggest that you go to the alienage as soon as you can.” Her back was to the elf now as she shuffled through some papers. “I bid you goodnight, Warden.”

“Goodnight.”

“Do you have you answer?” Leliana asked when Renya had shut the door and begun walking back down the hall. Renya nodded.

“One of them,” she said. “I do not believe she is the monster we think her to be.”

“I’m not sure anyone ever is.” Leliana glanced at Renya. “But ‘good’ and ‘right’ are not always the same thing.”

Renya sighed.

They walked along silently, pursuing their own thoughts. Renya’s stomach rumbled.

“You just ate,” Leliana commented, raising an eyebrow.

“Warden appetite,” the elf replied with a shrug. They reached the bedroom and entered. Leliana watched as Renya slowly changed into her sleeping clothes, teetering on the edge of helping her, but Renya was determinedly not looking at her as she changed her clothes.

Leliana, once satisfied that Renya wasn’t going to hurt herself, began to undress. She fumbled with the tie behind her neck.

“Let me help you?” Renya offered. Leliana shook her head.

“You can barely lift your arms up, my love,” she said gently. “How will you…?”

“I will manage, Lelia. May I?”

“I… yes, at least let me…”

“Stop,” Renya said, leaning in and kissing Leliana gently and managing to not wince as she reached around Leliana’s neck and deftly undid the knot. She kissed Leliana again, smiling as the bard tried to figure out what to do with her hands before settling on gripping the front of Renya’s shoulders. Renya’s fingers teased down Leliana’s front, pulling on the buttons and ties of her blouse, before letting her fingers glide underneath the material. Leliana shivered at the touch.

“Raise your arms.”

Leliana obeyed, and Renya removed the shirt in one quick motion. She leaned in and kissed Leliana again, letting her fingers drift over the bard’s back, eliciting a little shiver before untying the breastband. Soon it, too, lay on the floor.

“I… my tunic is over there…” Leliana breathed. Warm fingers traced a line from her shoulder, up her neck, and back again, before moving over her collarbone.

“My… my tunic…” the bard insisted weakly.

“Yes, vhenan.” Renya smiled and turned to grab her sleeping clothes, but Leliana grabbed her arm and pulled her into another kiss. She closed her eyes as Renya kissed her, tracing her fingers down her sides until they came to rest on the ties of her skirt. Leliana opened her eyes.

“Why did you stop?” she whispered. Grinning, Renya deftly untied the knot, and Leliana’s skirt fell, pooling on the ground. She kissed Leliana again, noting the flush of her cheeks.

“You wish to be covered?” Renya breathed into Leliana’s ear, rubbing their cheeks together softly. The bard nodded.

“Yes…”

Renya began kissing down Leliana’s neck.

“I will cover you, vhenan, if that is what you wish…”

“Oh… Renya… I… I… we should stop…” Leliana breathed half-heartedly, feeling the warm hands on her waist and subconsciously dragging her fingers along Renya’s ears, making the elf’s heart race.

“Should we?” Renya whispered seriously.

“…No.”

Renya chuckled before pulling Leliana toward the bed. She pulled off the sheet she had laid on to have her dressings changed, and it fluttered to the floor as Renya sat and pulled Leliana onto her lap again.

“My love… your injuries…”

“Will just have to wait. I am busy,” the elf answered in between kisses. Her fingers traced shapes on Leliana’s side and the bard trembled. The elf kissed her deeply, letting her tongue trace along Leliana’s lower lip, and the bard granted access readily. Her heart raced as Renya guided them in a slow, torturously pleasant dance, and her fingers went from tracing across Renya’s collarbone, to gliding up her neck, to scraping along her ears. A pleased hum came from the elf’s throat.

Still kissing the bard, Renya pulled off her Dalish robes, leaving only a thin tunic and pantaloons separating them. Leliana opened her eyes and pulled her head away a little, grabbing Renya’s hand.

“We just changed your bandages for the night,” she breathed, holding Renya’s gaze. “I… we should stop.” She began to sit up. “This is not… it is not fair.”

“What is not fair, vhenan?”

Leliana pulled her hand away; the elf had been kissing the soft fingertips in a gesture that was equal parts sweet and arousing.

“This, all of this!” Leliana tried to get up, and Renya moved to let her. “You have endured… you have… you are… Don’t look at me like that!”

Renya raised another eyebrow in response. “I am what, Lelia?” She leaned forward; as she crawled toward Leliana, the bard found herself lying back against the pillows again. Her eyes closed as Renya resumed brushing her lips down Leliana’s neck. Now the kisses were crossing her chest, now dragging down her sides, and Leliana unconsciously moved her arm to give the elf more access.

“…I… I cannot receiprocate…” Leliana breathed. The kisses stopped abruptly and Leliana opened her eyes, disappointed. She saw Renya staring down at her seriously.

“I am not asking you to,” she replied simply. Leliana shook her head.

“No, I cannot allow you... you have been through so much, and I…”

Renya kissed her.

“…don’t want my selfish desires to…”

Another kiss.

“…take the place of what should be pleasureable for both…”

Yet another kiss, and fingers dragged dragged down and back up Leliana’s leg.

“I ask for nothing in return, Lelia,” the elf breathed into the bard’s ear. She stroked her forehead gently before her fingertips came to rest on the smooth cheek. “I will take care of you tonight, show you how much I love you… inch…”

Kiss.

“…by…”

Kiss.

“…inch.”

***

The fire was nearly out when they finally burrowed under the blankets, Renya trying to not wince as she lay on her side.

“Oh, Renya…” Leliana breathed, snuggling into the elf’s neck. Renya kissed her.

“You are amazing,” the elf replied.

“Me? Look at the state I’ve left you in! That is not amazing. The unfairness of this evening…”

Renya silenced her with a kiss. “Vhenan, I’m not sure you truly realize what you do to me.”

Leliana laughed when they came apart again. Renya looked at her with a serious expression, but her eyes were twinkling. “So wonderful. Ma vhenan’ara,” she murmured. “My heart’s desire.” Leliana smiled at her, touched.

“Really? You think so?”

Renya kissed her. “I know so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then they spent the night together. The end. (haha)  
> Anyway.... I do like Anora's stories about her father, and I think she and Renya would somehow bond over that: Anora because she was, in a way, devoted to her father growing up, and Renya because, well, she wishes she knew her father.
> 
>  
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	136. A Good Idea

She had to endure a slight scolding the next morning when Leliana discovered that their antics had caused Renya to bleed through some of her bandages.

“It was worth it, though,” Renya said as Leliana finished rubbing the healing ointment onto her skin. She squinted over her shoulder at the bard. “You have been so worried for me, and then you were not.”

“Is that why you were so insistent last night?” Leliana asked dryly, eyeing the scars on Renya’s back.

“Well, no,” Renya said sheepishly. “I wanted to help you change because I wanted to do something nice for you for all you have been doing for me,” she began thoughtfully. “But then you did not have any clothes on and I forgot what I was trying to do.” She grinned. “You can be very distracting, vhenan.”

“One, you are a terrible liar, and two, _me_ distract _you_? Who are you and what have you done with Renya?”

Renya sat up as Leliana finished applying the bandages. “Were you displeased?” She rose and pulled on her Dalish robes.

“I didn’t say that.” Leliana tried, and failed, to hide her grin. Renya took her hands and pulled her close.

“Do I need a reason for wanting to show you I love you?” she asked quietly.

“When it is going to result in your bleeding from wounds inflicted while a prisoner, yes,” Leliana scolded good-naturedly. Renya shook her head and, after a moment’s consideration, grabbed her around the shoulders and flipped her onto the bed. They tussled a little, both smiling, Leliana shaking her head.

“You’re going to open them again!”

“They will mend.”

Leliana tisked at her, before placing a delicate hand on Renya’s cheek and guiding her into a kiss. Soft fingers whispered across the elf’s skin, and Renya grinned into Leliana’s lips. They lay like that, twisted around, until someone came to the door and knocked once.

“Come back later,” Renya growled.

“W-Warden?” came one of the servant’s voices.

“I said –”

“My love,” Leliana chastised gently, indicating the door with a meaningful nod. Renya sighed and sat up, groaning a little in pain. Leliana followed her, straightening her hair before adjusting Renya’s robes.

“Come in,” Renya said grudgingly.

The door opened to reveal a small elven servant and a tall human noble.

“Good morning, Warden Mahariel,” Elissa said with an easy smile.

Renya returned it. “Good morning, Lady Cousland.”

They were silent for a moment, feeling awkward. While not close aquantainces, they had shared a quite intimate experience together.

“Shall we lose the titles for good?” the human offered.

“Yes.”

Elissa entered the room and sat in one of the padded chairs with a wince. Renya smiled as Leliana looped their arms together and took her hand. Elissa acted like she hadn’t noticed.

“Warden Alistair has asked me to help with the effort against the Blight,” she said once she had arranged pillows behind her back and leaned on them with a little cringe. “I think he wants me to travel with you, but I think it would be more helpful if I went to Highever and enlisted the men and women still loyal to me to come to your aide if you call.”

“That is very generous, Elissa.”

Elissa grinned. “He was very grumpy when he found out I was going to talk to you about it.”

“I think he has developed a soft spot for you,” Renya said with a shrug. Leliana gave her arm a sharp tug. “What?” But Elissa laughed.

“I think you’re right.” Her eyes lingered a moment on Leliana’s, but she looked away. “He is a good man, but I heard he is betrothed to Anora? An interesting pairing.”

Renya sighed and shook her head. “I know little of human politics and care for them even less than I care for dwarven ones.” She caught Elissa confused look. “Long story.”

“You would prefer he not marry her, then?”

Renya shook her head. “I am still just one Dalish elf thrown into a human world. I want what is best for the people, but whether or not that means Alistair marries Anora, I do not know.”

“And what of Alistair’s happiness?” Elissa asked gently.

“What of any of our happiness?” Renya responded softly, holding the human’s gaze. “What have we all given up? What have we lost along the way?”

A long silence followed this.

“I heard you are going to the alienage?” Elissa finally asked, rising. Renya followed her lead.

“Yes, I was actually going to find Alistair in a little bit to talk to him about that.”

Elissa nodded heavily. Her glance shot up to Renya’s forehead and back to her eyes apologetically. “You may want to cover your markings, friend.”

“Why?” Renya bristled.

“I heard there are men from Tevinter there. They will not want a Dalish elf in their midst.”

“Why not?” Renya felt Leliana tug on her hand again, apparently thinking the elf’s response sounded too harsh.

“Because you will not tolerate them nearly as much as the city elves do,” Elissa responded with a knowing nod. “Good day, Renya. My lady,” she finished with a little nod to Leliana.

She left, nodding to Nyviel, who had appeared in the doorway. Leliana smiled; she was still not used to seeing the elven mage with vallaslin.

“Good morning,” the elf said, coming in at Leliana’s waved invitation. She sat down, rubbing her feet on the wood floor, still acclimating to the sole-less shoes Dalish mages wore.

“It’s good to see you feeling better.” She gave them a wry smile. “I found a room on the other end of the hallway, too, so you can keep feeling better.”

Renya laughed awkwardly, her ears turning pink.

“How are preparations for going to the alienage?” Leliana asked, changing the subject.

Nyviel shrugged. “Fine. Without knowing what’s there, we don’t know what to prepare for. But Eamon said we should try avoiding looking like we are with the Wardens, since Loghain’s men have increased their patrols. I saw a man beaten the other day for saying he supported the Order,” she said with a careful look at Renya.

The elf’s eyes flashed. “So we are to hide, now? After all we have been through?” she asked angrily.

“We need to get to the alienage without incident,” Leliana answered, looking thoughtful. Her gaze fell on Nyviel’s vallaslin. “I have another idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again...
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
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	137. Horrible

“I hate this,” Renya muttered from under her hood.

“Hush,” Leliana replied, leading her through the streets of Denerim. She was walking next to Alistair with Nyviel and Renya in tow, both wearing commoner clothing over their mage robes and leather armor, respectively. They were wearing matching cloaks and hoods to cover their faces, with the understanding that Leliana would tell any who asked that this was the respectful way for elves to be seen in public, hoping her Orlesian accent would stem any further questions.

“This disguise game of yours worked once. I do not see why it should work again,” Morrigan commented from behind the elves. She was looking very uncomfortable in Tower-issue mage robes one of the servants had pulled from the arl’s basement.

“It will work,” the bard said patiently, adjusting her armor surreptitiously underneath the fine outfit Lady Isolde had loaned her. “Just remember you are the court enchanter, sent to advise us.”

“Wonderful. What could go wrong?” Alistair muttered, plucking at his chevalier’s uniform. He was the only one who had a visible weapon, aside from Morrigan’s staff.

“Shh. Someone’s looking,” Nyviel hissed.

“You there,” a guard said, stepping forward and holding out his hand. “What’s your business in the alienage?” He eyed the three humans and two smaller creatures behind them.

“We heard there are Tevinter magisters here,” Leliana said, thickening her accent a little. “We wanted to-”

“Those your elves?” the man grunted, pointing at Renya and Nyviel.

“Yes,” Leliana said smoothly. “It is the only way for elves to be seen in public with their masters, no?” At the man’s doubtful look, she continued. “We do not want anyone to covet our elves. We paid a good deal of coin for them,” she invented with a charming smile. She took a deep breath, but whatever reaction Renya had to her words had been silent. The man considered them with his eyes narrowed. The little party stood quietly, waiting.

“Orlesians,” he finally muttered. “But let’s see these pretty elves you speak of.” He pushed past the two humans. “We’re looking for a Dalish elf, and my captain said to watch for people in disguise, after what happened to poor Arl Howe…”

Morrigan tried to catch Leliana’s eye, but the bard was staring at the man.

“No, please,” she insisted. “I would prefer if-”

But the guard had reached Renya and pulled off her hood before gripping her hair and pulling it back. Renya’s head swiveled up and he stared into her face, taking in her bright green eyes and clear forehead. Renya surveyed him calmly. _A little too calmly for a servant elf,_ Leliana thought, but at least she wasn’t attacking him.

“Ser?” she managed with a passable Orlesian lilt. Her eyes sought Leliana’s. “My lady?”

The man released her and performed the same examination of Nyviel before grunting.

“Satisfied?” Leliana said coolly. “Kindly remove your hands from my elves, ser. They are very valuable to me.”

“Yes, very nice,” he said, rolling his eyes. He waved his hand. “Move along. And if you see any elves with tattoos on their heads, send ‘em my way.”

“Maker protect you,” Leliana offered before walking away.

“I didn’t think that was going to work,” Alistair said once they were inside the great gates of the alienage.

“I didn’t think that cream was going to cover their markings so well,” Leliana said with relief. Apparently, the Orlesian woman in the market hadn’t lied when she said it was the best makeup she had.

“Perhaps it would be best if the two of you- oh.”

Renya had already taken a cloth from Morrigan and wiped the makeup off, and Nyviel was engaged similarly, having followed the older elf’s lead. Nyviel looked up guiltily.

“Oops.”

“Well, we shall see what the state of the elves is,” Leliana said with a sigh and an understanding smile. “Maybe we don’t need the disguise anymore.”

They walked over a rickety bridge past a stagnant pool. A large pipe fed the pool, but the water that came out of it smelled terrible. As it burbled past underneath their feet and out through another pipe, Renya thought she saw garbage an other, more organic and aromatic waste float by.

“Maker,” Alistair said with a horrified shake of his head.

“’Tis a desolate place,” Morrigan offered, shooting the elves a look. “Unfortunate, the state they live in.”

“It is,” Renya replied, her eyes sad as she looked around at the crumbling buildings and broken wooden walkways. No wonder Pol had risked death to run away.

“I don’t remember Amaranthine being like this,” Nyviel murmured, her eyes wide with horror. “Is this how my parents live?”

They continued, taking in the dust and dirt that surrounded them. As they made their way into the village, small houses began to spring up, close together and shabbily maintained. A young elf with blonde hair was fighting with one of her friends.

“Give it here!” she demanded, trying to take back a little stone the other elf had. She was wearing the most odd combination of colors Renya had seen, with yellow patterned trousers and a red top.

“Give it _here_ or I’ll fire at _you_ next time! I’ll…” she trailed off at the sudden appearance of three humans and two Dalish elves. “What do you want?”

Renya arched an eyebrow as the other little elf scampered off, dropping the stone. It looked like an arrowhead. The girl picked it up, eyeing Renya and Nyviel.

“What’s your name, da’len?” Renya asked.

“Sera. Why?”

Renya eyed the small bow and single arrow that was lying on the ground next to the small elf. A little hole was dug in the ground, and Renya could just make out the top of a box, buried. She was about to comment when another elf appeared.

“Sera, what are you…? Burying boxes again?” It was the elf Renya had released from the dungeon. “What did I tell you about that?”

“Don’t remember.”

The elf sighed. Renya smiled and reached into her bag. They had brought a few gifts with them to present to the magisters, if they needed to maintain their ruse. Renya pulled out the little painted box she had found on Irving’s desk so long ago and handed it to the elf.

“Here, falon. Was it yours?”

“Yes, thank you. It… hey, you’re the elf from the arl’s. Maker, I’m glad you made it out alright!”

Renya smiled but didn’t say anything.

“My name’s Soris. Here, let me finish and I’ll bring you to Shianni. She’ll want to meet you. And Sera,” he added sternly, shaking the box at her. “This one isn’t for burying, alright?”

“Alright, alright.”

“Go on ahead. I’ll catch up,” Soris said to the little party.

They walked on. A scuffle caught their attention; a handful of elves were attacking a lone human.

“Get off me!” the human yelled. “I didn’t mean you any harm!”

“Quick! Someone’s coming!” one of the elves cried. They scattered, leaving the human panting and straightening his tunic. He looked at Renya warily, eyes darting to her forehead.

“Please, don’t talk to me,” he stammered.

“Are you alright?”

“Please! They’ll think I’m with you!” And he ran off.

“…okay,” Nyviel murmured.

“Excuse me.”

The party turned. An elf was staring at them with bright eyes.

“I don’t suppose you have coin to spare for a war veteran?” he asked. “Ostegar was a terrible loss. Just terrible.”

Alistair and Renya shared a look before Renya reached into her coin pouch, hidden from view, and produced a sovereign.

“Really?” the elf cried happily. “Oh! Thank you, ser! Thank you kindly! I shall never forget your face!” He was gone before any of them could respond.

“’Tis… very strange here,” Morrigan said. She gave Renya a serious look. “You gave him coin?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I…” Morrigan sighed. “No reason.”

“I don’t remember him being at Ostegar,” Alistair said thoughtfully. “I didn’t think many elves fought there, except with the Wardens.”

“He wasn’t there,” Renya said with a little smile.

“What?”

“He-”

“Hey! Hey, elfy!”

Renya turned and looked down at the small fledgling who had run after her, eyebrow arched and face amused.

“You’re from the forest, yeah? Know how to use a bow?”

“Of course,” Renya said with a smile.

“Do you think you could show me sometime?”

Renya chuckled. “Before I leave. I promise.”

“When’re you leaving?”

“Not for a few days, I’m sure. Where are your parents? I will –”

“Parents? Pft. Don’t have any of those,” she said baldly. “I’ll be around here. Be sure you don’t forget! I’ll be mad, yeah?” She scampered off.

“She’s spirited,” Leliana commented with a small chuckle.

“What’s that?” Morrigan asked, pointing. Outside of a small, run-down building was a crowd of angry elves. One was angrier than the rest, and a mage from Tevinter was trying to maintain order.

“Alright, alright. No need to shove. The more ordered you are, the sooner you can get the cure!”

“The cure?!” the angry red-haired elf sneered. “That’s what you are calling it? A cure? Where is Valendrian? Where is my uncle, Cyrion? They have disappeared, and they were not sick!”

“Quiet, Shianni!” another elf said to her angrily. “Just because you no longer have anything to live for, doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t!”

“And my sister received the Tevinter spell, and she’s fine!” cried another. “Our families need this cure!”

“Your families?” the elf called Shianni said with a scoff. “Your families need you to return to your homes!” She caught sight of the three humans surrounding Renya and Nyviel and stomped over.

“And what do you want, shems?” she demanded, eyeing Alistair and Leliana’s Orlesian attire. “Come to laugh at the elves as they die of a plague?” She caught sight of Renya. “A Dalish?” she asked, staring at her. “No… You… you’re the one Soris told me about. The one who freed him. Are you?”

Renya smiled and gave a little nod. “Aneth ara, falon. My name is Renya.”

“Shianni. You’re Dalish?”

So they had made it back to this point again, except it didn’t really both Renya anymore. She inclined her head. “Yes.”

“I’m surprised a Dalish elf would care about us. You don’t seem as fearsome as the tales say,” Shianni said, glancing between Renya and Nyviel.

“We are all elves here,” Renya said with a small smile. “I am also a Grey Warden. This is Alistair, another Grey Warden. Nyviel, Morrigan, and Leliana,” she introduced, indicating each one. She turned back to Shianni, looking impressed. “You stand up to the humans?”

Shianni glanced over her shoulder. “Come inside,” she said. “Your shem friends, too.”

***

“Kallian?” Shianni called when they had entered one of the run-down houses. “We have guests.”

Another elf came into the room, her green eyes haunted. She was clutching what looked like a wedding ring on her finger nervously. Leliana looked at her curiously.

“Dalish?” the elf called Kallian said with interest. Her eyes hardened when she saw Alistair, Leliana, and Morrigan. “What do you want?”

“They’re Grey Wardens, cousin,” Shianni said, indicating they should sit. “They’re here to help us.”

Kallian laughed bitterly. She took in Leliana and Alistair’s fine clothes. “You look like shemlen nobles to me. And I’m quite done with all the ‘help’ you offer!”

“Kallian, please…”

Renya leaned forward. “What is happening here?”

“You mean the uprising?” Kallian sat back and crossed her arms. “My wedding day happened. Mine and Soris. The Arl of Denerim’s son, a little bastard named Vaughan, came and captured us. Me, Shianni, the other young elves…”

“Kallian, please,” Shianni said more insistently.

“They kidnapped us. Had their way with us. Don’t look at me like it didn’t happen, Shianni!”

“Oh, you poor dear,” Leliana murmured.

“I’m going to stop this,” Alistair muttered to himself. “Somehow. I’ll put an end to this…”

Morrigan watched as Renya listened to the other elf, now detailing her capture and escape. Her eyes narrowed. Renya didn’t ask for any of this, but let the other elf – who she had just met – talk about these intimate details and listened as if they were the most important information she had ever heard.

“My father told me not to use the skills my mother taught me, but they were the most helpful tool available to me that day. But it still wasn’t enough,” Kaillan finished bitterly.

“Aunt Adaia would have been proud of you. You got us – all of us – out of a lot of trouble. Don’t blame yourself for what happened.” Shianni took the other elf’s hand comfortingly.

Kallian was staring at Renya. “So what are you here for?”

“We heard there was trouble here. We wanted to help.”

“And what are they here for?” she demanded, eyeing the three humans. Apparently she had accepted the help of the two Dalish elves with little question.

“They are here with me,” Renya said firmly.

“Why are they dressed like nobility? The nobles don’t care about us. Never have.”

Renya sighed and glanced at Alistair.

“The Grey Wardens are wanted by Loghain. We had to sneak over here so we wouldn’t be arrested before we arrived,” he said heavily. Kallian nodded, looking thoughtful.

“So are you going to kick those bastard Tevinters out?” she finally said. “They took my father, Cyrion, and our keeper, Valendrian.”

Renya and Alistair shared another look.

“We will try. But first we need to find out what they are doing here. Shianni said that they are offering bad cures for a plague?” Renya said with a nod at the red-haired elf.

Shianni shook her head with a sigh. “There are some that are sick that they do cure. But then there are others who are healthy. They just… disappeared into the hospice and haven’t returned. I’m worried about what they’re doing. Something isn’t right.”

Nyviel leaned forward. “We snuck in here by covering our markings,” she said, indicating herself and Renya. “What if we pretended to be sick? They would take us into the building and we’ll be able to see what is going on.”

“Absolutely not!” Leliana cut in, putting her hand on Renya’s shoulder. “Just the two of you? I won’t hear of it. We will all go together or not at all.”

“I am not fragile, Leliana,” Renya said quietly, aware of the twinge of pain in her back.

“And they won’t take in elves if they think humans are watching,” Shianni added with a puzzled frown. “Another human brought her elf here because she was afraid of the plague, but the Tevinters turned them both away.” Her eyes fell on Renya. “You would do that for us?”

“Yes,” she replied simply.

“’Tis a small enough building,” Morrigan said, her gold eyes watching Renya closely. “I could watch from above to ensure nothing too strange occurs while we are apart.”

“You are okay with this?” Leliana asked Alistair. The other Warden shrugged and then nodded.

“We’ve taken down dragons, Leliana. I’m sure they can walk into a room by themselves.”

“Tel’enfenim,” Renya added. “Do not worry. Now where is that horrible makeup?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes. Well, maybe they'll be able to sort things out...
> 
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	138. Sick

Renya’s heart was hammering as she hobbled up to the hospice alone. Nyviel had melted into the crowd, and Renya had lost track of her. She was now doing her best to appear ill, noticing some of the elves lying on the ground gasping for air.

“Don’t shove, don’t shove!” one of the men from Tevinter called as she approached.

Renya faked a cough. “Help me. Please, ser…” She gasped for air and coughed again.

“Dear Maker! Look at you! How did you get past us? You need to follow me right away!” he said, barely looking at her before taking her by the arm and leading her into the hospice building. Renya heard a raven’s caw and glanced up to see a black bird with gold eyes swoop past before she was pushed into the building and the door closed behind her.

She stood in the small, bare room, not sure what to do; she felt very exposed in the plain, worn clothing she was now wearing – borrowed from Shianni – with nothing but her hunting knife tucked into her belt underneath her tunic.

“Another one?” A Tevinter man, this one not a mage, looked Renya over. “She’s not sick. Toss her in with the other knife-ear.”

Renya found herself grabbed roughly and practically dragged into another, even smaller, room before being thrown into a cage with another elf.

“You, too?” Nyviel said from the ground once the man had gone back to the main room.

“You made it in?” Renya asked. Nyviel nodded.

“Help,” Nyviel said pathetically, faking a few coughs. “I’m sick.”

“I wonder why they took us in,” Renya said, dragging her fingers along the bars thoughtfully. “No one should have fallen for our acts.”

“So now what?”

Renya reached under her tunic and pulled out her lockpicking tools with a small smile. She set to work; it took a little longer than usual because she was picking the lock backwards and couldn’t see what she was doing, but eventually they heard a click and the door swung open. They stepped out of the cage quietly.

“What’s that on the desk?” Nyviel asked, pointing. Renya slipped over and picked up the piece of paper. She squinted, underlining each word with her finger.

“Bring… six… males and… eight…f-females for the…next… shipm… shipment.” She shared a nervous look with Nyviel. “What does that mean?”

“Hey! What are you doing out of that cage?” The man was back, brandishing a sword. Renya grabbed her hunting knife, but Nyviel had already shot a spell at him, knocking him backward. Renya dove at him and kicked his abandoned sword toward the mage. More guards started running into the little room.

“Renya, duck!” Nyviel cried. Renya turned, then threw herself to the floor.

Nyviel, her eyes glowing white, swung her sword at the oncoming humans, killing the ones closest to her and knocking the others back. Renya scrambed over the bodies closest to them, grabbing one of the abandoned swords, before lunging at another one of the guards.

Soon the elves were surrounded by a small pile of dead humans.

“We need to tell the others about this,” Renya said, coming back into the room and taking the letter. She noticed a small key and took that, too. As they walked out of the room:

“Help us!” came a muffled voice. “Anybody!”

In another small chamber were cages of elves. Renya quickly picked the locks when the key didn’t work. The elves thanked her profusely and ran out a back door. Renya and Nyviel heard scuffling coming from the front of the building so, with a glance between them, ran through the now-empty building and threw open the door.

Alistair, Leliana, and Morrigan were engaged with the Tevinter healers, who had seen the group of elves escaping and lunged for them. Some of the elves had joined in the fray, as well. Nyviel jumped down the steps, her eyes white again as she channeled her magic through her sword, and Renya followed her with a yell.

The magisters soon lay dead, along with some of the elves who had seemed to be defending them.

“There you are!” Shianni ran up to them, Kallian behind her. “What happened in there?”

“I found this note,” Renya said, thrusting it at the elf. Shianni scanned it quickly.

“What does ‘for the next shipment’ mean?” she asked, looking up in horror. “They can’t be shipping _people_ , can they?”

“Has anyone come out of the hospice that you’ve seen?” Alistair asked. Shianni shook her head.

“What about the back alleyways?” Kallian offered. “They could move without being seen if they are… really moving people. And I’m coming with you,” she added, seeing the Wardens share another look.

“Kallian, be reasonable,” Shianni said. “You know that poking around like that is what got your mother imprisoned two years ago…”

“Two years ago…?” Leliana murmured, her eyes narrowed. “Was your mother imprisoned in the arl of Denerim’s dungeon?”

“Yes? What of it?”

Leliana nodded with realization. “I thought you looked familiar. Brown hair, in braids; green eyes, just like yours. Freckles, too, if I remember… odd for an elf, no?”

Kallian blinked. “You knew my mother.”

“We met at the arl’s.”

A little silence followed this as the meaning of the words set in. Then, Kallian’s face broke into a wide smile.

“ _You’re_ the light she always talked about! A ‘red-haired angel’ she used to call you!” She laughed and pulled Leliana into a hug. The bard stood awkwardly for a minute before hugging the shorter woman back. “You’re the reason she came back. You freed her.” She gave Leliana a squeeze. “Thank you so much.” The elf pulled away, wiping her eyes. “She always talked about you, that whole year before she died.”

With a glance at Alistair, Renya started walking toward the back alleyways, Kallian talking animatedly to Leliana as they followed.

“She used to tell me how you picked the lock on the cage they had her in, and figured out the mechanism that kept the steel doors closed,” the elf chatted at Leliana, eyes wide. She looked star-struck. “She told me that not all shemlen were bad, that there was at least one who cared about the elves.” At that, Kallian became quiet. “She used to wish there were more humans like you.”

Leliana looked equal parts flattered and flabbergasted. She did not think that she would ever be someone anyone would look up to.

“She always regretted not asking your name.”

Leliana was quiet for a long time. “My name is Leliana,” she whispered.

“Thank you, Leliana, for saving my mother,” Kallian replied softly. She looked up. “Oh. Here are the apartments. If the men from Teventer are using the alleys, this would be a good place as any to bring elves. But how do we get in?” She looked around with a dry laugh. “And I see we lost Shianni.”

“Would this key help?” Renya asked, looking over her shoulder at the sound of voices coming around the corner.

Kallian nodded. “Yes, let’s go.”

They stopped at one of the buildings and Kallian fiddled the key into the lock. Renya noticed a sign posted next to the door.

“‘Elves… who… bear… swords’,” she read slowly. “‘Shall… die… upon them.’ Elgar’nan…”

“Welcome to the alienage,” Kallian said darkly. The lock clicked. “We’re in.”

The door swung open on creaky hinges, making them all jump.

“’Tis but a door,” Morrigan huffed, fussing over the feathers on her shoulder-guard. Kallian rolled her eyes at the witch.

“You jumped. I saw you.”

“That is neither –”

“Hush,” Renya said. “Someone is here.”

They entered and walked down a narrow hallway. A weak voice came from the inside of one of the rooms. Renya tried the handle; it was unlocked, and she opened the door.

An young elf was lying on the floor. She gave a pathetic cough.

“Maker,” she moaned. “Why have they forgotten me? Please…” Another cough. “Heal me…” She caught sight of Renya’s head in the doorway. “Leave. Kindly do not gawk at me, ser.”

“Are you alright-?”

“I said…” Cough, cough. “Leave!”

“Come on,” Kallian said, putting her hand on Renya’s arm and pulling her away. “She’s sick. We’re looking for slavers; we can come back later.”

They made their way silently down the deserted hallway.

“I have a strange feeling about this place,” Nyviel whispered. Her ears twitched. “What’s that?”

In a corner at the end of the hallway crouched an elf with black hair. He turned at their footsteps.

“Who’s there?” His eyes fell on Renya. “Please, go away! They can’t know you’re here!”

“What’s happened here?” Kallian demanded. The man rubbed his eyes but didn’t answer.

“Tell us what you have seen,” Renya said gently. “We are trying to find out what is happening to the elves here.”

“No! I won’t! I won’t say nothing! Please! I don’t want trouble!” the man cried, turning around and leaning against the wall.

“’Tis foolish to continue like this, Warden,” Morrigan hissed. Her eyes flashed to Leliana. “Perhaps…?”

Renya ignored her, although she made a little motion with her hand to halt Leliana from walking forward. “What have you seen, falon? Valendrian? The sick? We are trying to bring them back. But we need your help.”

The man hesitated, looking torn. “They… they took them. In the night. Took them right out of their beds, dragged them down the hall. Men, and… and women. And children!” he cried, turning around. His eyes were red. “Maker, the little ones… crying!”

“Where do they take them?” Renya prompted gently when the man stopped talking, feeling her pulse begin to hammer in her ears.

“To the landlord’s old office,” the elf said, pointing. “They go in there, and they never come out!”

“What else have you seen?”

The man shook his head. “Every few days they come back. It’s like a parade. A silent, horrible parade.”

A thump came from down the hall.

“Please, go!” the man pleaded, shrinking back into the wall. “If they find out I talked, they’ll take me, too!”

“My father!” Kallian said in a panic, grabbing the elf’s shoulder and spinning him around. “Have you seen my father?”

“Go! Now! Please!”

She gave him a shake.

“My _father_ , you ass! Did you see him?”

“Come, falon,” Renya said quietly, pulling Kallian back and looking over her shoulder. “We will find them.” Kallian released the other elf, took a deep breath, and finally nodded. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

They tiptoed down the hall, leaving the elf cowering where he was. Alistair tried the handle on one of the doors in the hallway, and it swung open. He stepped inside, sword ready and Renya at his side, but the room was empty. A table was set, as if for a meal, but the chairs were knocked over as though the family had barely sat down before they had been forced from their seats. A vase lay broken on the ground, dried blood and bits of hair stuck to it.

“Maker…”

Renya looked over to where Leliana was standing. She was looking at a small doll on the floor. It was worn - a well-loved toy left behind in the scuffle. Renya took in the wreckage around them: broken shelves and crates, blood stains on the floor, toppled chairs.

“Let us keep looking,” she said with the hint of a snarl.

Two other rooms were likewise destroyed. When they finally came to the end of the hallway, Renya and Kallian were seething. Nyviel was shaking her head, disgusted.

“Damn shemlen,” Kallian said angrily. “Come in the night and take us?”

“The seth’lin will not get away with this, falon. I promise,” Renya said, her hands shaking in anger as she pushed open the final door.

“What’s this, then?” said a human in the process of snapping a collar onto one of the elves. Renya flew at them in a flash, snarling and yelling in Dalish, Kallian on her heels and the others behind her.  
  
If Leliana thought that Renya had looked terrifying in the Deep Roads, it was nothing compared to this. While the elf could look fearsome in battle, she had never seen her eyes flash with such hatred or her face twist with such ferocity. She took a moment to take in the image of the Dalish elf back-to-back with the city elf, fighing alongside one another, before pulling out a dagger from under her sleeve and throwing it. Her aim was true and the blade buried into the neck of one of the humans about to stab Nyviel.

Nyviel, too, had changed. Her eyes had turned white, and she emanated an aura that seemed to repel most attacks as she drew the sword she had taken from one of the slavers and channeled her magic through it. Morrigan was in the doorway, maintaining a protective shield around Alistair with one hand while conjuring a wall in front of the city elves on the floor with the other.

Soon all the men were dead and the party stood panting above them. Kallian’s cry caught their attention.

“Father!” She threw herself into the arms of one of the elves.

“Kallian? Is that you? You came? And this?” He looked up at the rest of the group with his daughter.

“The Grey Wardens, Father. They’re here to help us.”

“The Grey Wardens?” the elf said with a little surprise. He rose. “You have our thanks, sers. Come,” he said to his daughter and the other elves rising from the ground. “Let’s go back to our homes, quickly.”

Kallian’s eyes met Renya’s, and she gave a little nod.

“Go be with your family, falon,” she said with a smile. “I will find the rest.”

Renya’s eyes fell on the door to the outside and she stalked over to it without another word as the elves gathered themselves and ran out and down the hallway.

They walked outside cautiously, but no one was around. Morrigan stepped forward next to the elf.

“And what if the elves are no longer here, Warden?”she whispered. Renya clenched her jaw a few times.

“Then we will improvise, lethallan,” she murmured back.

“Another shipment?” a man said, walking around the corner. A few other armored men were with him. His gaze fell onto Morrigan, the only visible mage.

“What’s the meaning of this? We weren’t told there was going to be another shipment until tonight,” he said, eyes passing over Renya and Nyviel. “Wait…” he added, squinting at Morrigan. “You don’t look like you’re from Tevinter…” His glance fell onto Leliana and Alistair, still dressed like Orlesian nobles and his eyes narrowed further.

“We are investigating the disappearance of the elves,” Leliana said. “One of our elves,” she added, indicating herself and Alistair. “Came here for healing but has not returned.” It was a long shot, as nobility did not investigate these types of matters for themselves, nor would any human be caught mucking around in the mud behind alienage apartments.

The guard was staring at Renya’s forehead. “I know who you are,” he said, drawing his sword. “You’re that Grey Warden!” He looked behind him at the men with him. “The Grey Wardens! Attack! For the regent!”

“Seriously?” Alistair muttered, pulling out his sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Warden's job is never over.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	139. Enough

“They came from that way,” Alistair said, indicating one of the buildings with his eyes as he resheathed his sword.

Inside the warehouse stood an elf, armed with a bow and arrow and flanked by two other elves. Renya smiled and walked forward, looking relieved, until:

“Halt!” the elf demanded, holding out her hand. “What is the meaning of this? We were told that there would be no interference from the authorities!”

“What?” Nyviel muttered.

Renya, who was standing stunned at the less-than-warm greeting, gave herself a little shake. “I am… not with the authorities,” she said in confusion.

“Oh?” the other elf said with a sneer. “An errant group of do-gooders, then?

“We are-”

“You will regret this, you know,” the woman said matter-of-factly. “Believe it or not, we have been given dispensation to do our business here.” She chuckled. “You Fereldens talk a great deal about how very wrong slavery is, but isn’t it funny how quickly the smell of gold overcomes such ideals?”

“But…” Renya was looking at the other elf in horror. “You are an elf! How can you be a part of this?”

“So I should feel kinship for these sheep?” the woman replied with a chuckle. She glanced at Renya’s forehead, then Nyviel’s. “You are Dalish. I’m surprised you care for the fate of these elves. Are they not misguided children to the likes of you?”

“They are elves,” Renya replied stoutly, crossing her arms. Maybe she had thought that once, but not anymore. The woman shook her head.

“Don’t be foolish. I am Tevinter first and a servant of the Minrathous Circle second. Those are the things that matter, much like how you are a Dalish elf first and would never ally yourself with these cretins.”

A low growl escaped Renya.

“You can’t just take people from their homes!” Leliana exclaimed. “It is… it is just… despicable.”

“Enough,” the woman said, sounding weary. “I am here to halt your slaughter, nothing more.”

“We do not have to fight,” Renya offered.

“Really?” Morrigan muttered. The Warden ignored her.

“Really?” the woman echoed. She crossed her arms. “Why else would you be here if not to exact righteous revenge? Hm? I’m listening.”

“I only wish to speak to whoever is in charge.”

The woman laughed. “Is that what you told all the others you slaughtered?”

Renya managed a smile, but her eyes were still hard. “They did not give me a chance to say anything.”

The woman sighed. “You wish to parlay? I see that you are capable, but Caladrius is more capable still. If you wish to talk peacefully, he will know what to do with you.” She turned and began unlocking the door. “Be respectful if you know what is good for you.”

“That worked?” Morrigan muttered to herself. Leliana shushed her. They walked into another room lined with cages full of elves. Leliana caught the matching horror and anger in both Renya and Nyviel’s faces. Down a short flight of stairs stood a Tevinter mage surrounded by guards.

“And who do we have here?” he asked as his eyes swept over the group. “I hope this is worth the interruption.”

“It is, Enchanter,” the elf said respectfully. “This intruder fought her way through the courtyard, but claims she wishes to parlay."

The magister tisked. “And thus you thought it best to bring the Grey Warden directly to me.”

“Grey Warden? What?” the woman asked in horror, looking at Renya. Renya smiled at her.

“I didn’t… she… she said she wanted to talk, my lord…”

“Talk? Well, that is indeed unexpected.” He nodded to Renya. “I am Caladrius. And you are the Grey Wardens that I have been hearing so much about.”

“You have heard of me?”

Caladrius laughed. “Of course. One can scarcely get any other word from the regent these days. ‘Warden’ this and ‘Warden’ that.” He laughed. “It’s surpassed the word ‘gold’ in popularity, I’d imagine. I’ve heard so much about you. And,” he said, his voice lowering to a menacing rumble. “Your friends.”

“What is it that you want?” Renya demanded.

“Want? I want for my business to be conducted smoothly.” Caladrius eyed the little group behind Renya. “If that requires that you and I come to some sort of terms, than so be it.”

“How do you know Loghain?” Alistair asked, stepping next to Renya. Caladrius switched his calculating gaze onto Alistair.

“Yes, I suppose you would be interested in that, wouldn’t you? We have been paying for his soldiers, but I am not stupid. A landsmeet is coming; once we are no longer needed, we will be shut down. Unfortunate, really; I rather like it here in Ferelden. Quaint. A sort of country charm, yes? Speaking of the landsmeet, I hear you are trying to erode support for him?” He studied his nails. “Rather like trying to wash away a mountain, isn’t it? Perhaps I could offer you some help?”

Alistair and Renya shared a look.

“I offer to you a letter containing the seal from the Teryn of Gwaren implicating him in all this. If you take the letter, we will leave a few days early with our money and our slaves,” he said, studying for the Wardens’ reactions.

“And shall we look into the elves’ eyes and spit on them, as well?” Nyviel growled.

Alistair turned to Renya. “We’re not really considering this, are we? I feel dirty… As much as we need evidence against Loghain…”

“I have a counter-offer,” Renya said.

“Really?” Caladrius said with interest. “This should be good.”

“You leave your money and your slaves, and get out with your lives.”

An uncomfortably silence followed this.

“Now that doesn’t sound like much of an offer, does it, dear? Come, we don’t need to act like barbarians…” But as he spoke, Renya saw him make a small movement with his hands. The guards around him attacked.

Renya vaulted over the railing of the platform they were on, followed by Nyviel. Alistair bellowed and drew his sword, attacking the guard elf and her fellows, who had all fallen on the small party. Renya, meanwhile, had landed on the slaver and slashed at him, drawing blood. He threw her off with a pulse of his magic while Nyviel summoned a blizzard to fill the room. Leliana had apparently subdued the elven archer, as arrows were now flying at the Tevinter mage.

“Get back! Renya! Get back!” Nyviel yelled, her voice sounding multi-toned as she grabbed Renya and dragged her away. She cast another spell, and lightning split through the room, killing the humans who had rallied around Caladrius. Other screams announced that Alistair, Leliana, and Morrigan had defeated the Tevinter elves. Renya saw Caladrius hunched in a bubble, cowering from the storm.

“Can anything penetrate his shield?” she call to Nyviel. The mage glanced at Caladrius and then nodded, her glowing white eyes flashing.

“But it’s very dangerous – Renya!”

The Warden had pulled herself to her feet and sprung across the room, neither noticing or caring as small objects were hurled around the room and hit her. She lurched through Caladrius’s protective shield. Although his spell protected him from the sword she was wielding, it did nothing against her fist. It connected with his jaw in a satisfying thump.

“Enough! Enough! Please!” he cried as Renya kicked him to the ground.

The wind quieted as Nyviel dispelled the magic. Caladrius was left hunched on the ground.

“I yield! I yield!” he panted, clutching his side. “It… it seems your reputation is an accurate one.” He gasped and pulled himself to his knee, bowing to Renya. “I surrender.”

Renya glanced at the elves watching the scene with wide eyes. They were looking at Caladrius with deep hatred.

“Perhaps you should be left to the mercy of these elves,” she said, turning and beginning to walk away.

“Wait!” Caladrius cried, lunging forward and grabbing at her ankles. “Hear me out…dear lady…” He withdrew his hands again as she turned and stared down at him in disgust.

“I… I can… enhance your physical abilities a great deal, were I to use… the life force of the remaining slaves here. Think of how unstoppable you would be…”

Screams and jeers came from the cages. Renya crossed her arms.

“It would be a simple spell,” Caladrius continued from the ground. “Quiet painless to the slaves, I assure you. Allow me to leave this place alive and I would be more than happy to do this little service for you.”

The elves were rattling at their cages now.

Renya shook her head. “No.”

“No, well, perhaps something better, then,” he murmured, his eyes falling on Leliana. Renya stepped to the side to block her from view. “Yes…” he murmured. “Grey Wardens often don’t live long, do they? I can use the slaves to prolong your life. A full, long life. Guaranteed. Now doesn’t that sound just lovely?”

Renya pulsed her jaw as she heard Leliana gasp behind her. Out of the side of her eye, she saw Morrigan staring at the magister, her jaw set and face strained. The elf hesitated but, with a glance at Alistiar, tightened her crossed arms and shook her head again.

“No. Not at the expense of the elves.”

“Ah.” Caladrius hung his head again. “Then… then…” He looked up at her. “I suppose you wouldn’t consider just letting me go, would you?”

“Give me your staff.”

“What?”

“Give me your staff,” Renya repeated angrily. She held out her hand. “I am no mage. Give me your staff.”

Reluctantly, he handed it over.

“Now get up.”

He stood, his head still bowed but watching her curiously.

“Return to Tevinter,” she said with a snarl. “When all the elves you sold into slavery have been returned, I will will return your staff to you.”

“He doesn’t need a staff to perform his magic,” one of the magister’s disarmed guards said defiantly. Caladrius watched Renya smugly.

“Oh? Well in that case…” Renya took the staff in both hands and brought it down toward her knee, intending to break it in half.

“Wait!” Caladrius cried, throwing his hands out. “Wait! Don’t! I…” He hung his head again. “I will do as you ask. Just… just don’t break it.”

“Then go,” Renya said with a growl, pointing.

Caladrius knelt again and placed something on the ground. “The letter, dear lady. In thanks for… for your mercy…”

He rose and, when Renya did nothing but nod coldly, left with his few remaining men and without his staff. Renya scanned the room; all the elves were watching her with wide eyes. She handed the staff at random to one of her companions, who took it without question, before running over to the closest cage and picking the lock. It took a few minutes to open the cages – Leliana hadn’t taken her lockpicks with her – but soon a small crowd of elves were standing around them. Renya sought out the oldest and wisest-looking one.

“Who are you?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over the group before settling on Renya. “Is it true? You are the Grey Wardens?”

“Are you Valendrian?” Renya said with a small nod. “Shianni is worried about you, Hahren.”

“Shianni? Did she send you? Blessings on you, ser. You have done us a great service. If you have a chance, please see me before you leave the alienage. I must thank you properly.” He grasped Renya’s upper arms. The Warden returned the gesture, looking a little surprised at the Dalish action.

“But we will not impose on your good graces any more. Come, everyone,” he called to the group. “Let’s go home.”

***

It was evening by the time they came back to the great vhenadahl tree in the middle of the alienage.

“Thank you!” Shianni cried, running up to them and throwing her arms around Renya, who hugged back after a moment. “Thank you for returning Valdenrian and my uncle Cyrion, and… and everyone.” She pulled away. “I heard about what you said to that slaver. Do you really think he will return everyone?” She sighed when she saw Renya’s look. “I didn’t think so, either. But maybe at least some will return to us.”

“Shianni, are you going to invite your guests to stay for the evening?” Valendrian asked, joining the little party. “It is not much, and I’m sure very different from your home in the forest, but we would share with you what we have, my friend.”

“That’s very nice, but –” Alistair began, looking around at the squalid street.

“We accept,” Renya said firmly. Alistair balked, but then nodded, seeing the looks on both Renya and Nyviel’s faces.

“Wonderful!” Valendrian said with a smile.

And so they set off toward Shianni’s house. They were interrupted by a very familiar beggar and a few other elves.

“Oh, hello again. I don’t suppose you would be willing to help out more disabled veterans from the war?”

Another elf piped up. “And I’m an orphan.”

The first elf sighed. “Yes,” he agreed flatly. “And poor Ollie is an orphan.”

“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” Valendrian scolded. Immediately the elves looked embarassed at the unexpected appearance of their keeper. “Begging in the streets? Is that how we’ve taught you to act as an elf? Go home. You too, Ollie. Your mother will be wondering where you are.” The elves scampered off.

“See? I knew didn’t see him at Ostegar,” Alistair said. Renya chuckled.

“I apologize, Warden,” Valendrian began, but Renya shook her head.

“I found this in the hospice. It probably belonged to the slavers,” she said, handing a pouch of coin to the keeper. “I am sure you would know how to use this to help the elves here better than I do.”

“Maker… look at all that gold!” Valendrian said, staring down into the pouch. He looked up at Renya in disbelief. “You surely can’t be serious? You must need this.”

“Keep it, Hahren,” Renya said firmly. “Help our people.”

Valendrian looked at her with a smile. “Our people,” he murmured, looking down at the little pouch again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our people :)
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	140. The Templar and the Elf

“Maker, I didn’t think it was possible to miss a bedroll,” Alistair grumbled the next morning, rolling off the mattress Kallian had given up for him. “I notice you’re not complaining,” he observed when Renya simply sat up and stretched, back popping.

“Good morning!” Shianni said, coming into the room. “I hope you slept well?”

After they had broken the fast – Renya and Alistair uncomplainingly eating only a small amount of the food available and pretending to not notice the growls coming from their stomachs – the Wardens’ party stepped back out into the sunlight.

“Hey! Hey, elfy!”

Renya smiled and turned at the little elf’s voice.

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Of course not, da’len,” Renya said. “Not without showing you how to use a bow.”

“Great, yeah. Come on. I made a few more arrows so we can practice.”

While Renya busied herself with the little elf, Alistair turned to the rest of the group. “We shouldn’t stay here long,” he said quietly. “Eamon said he was trying to get in touch with the families of the nobles we met at Teagan’s party, but he’ll want us back soon.”

“So go and tell the Warden she should leave the elf child,” Morrigan said with a shrug.

“I… I didn’t say we needed to leave right this very moment,” he said, seeing Renya crouched by the child’s side, drawing back the small bow and trying not to wince as she used her back muscles.

“What’s wrong with you?” the little elf asked. “Are you hurt?”

Renya sighed. “I am fine, da’len. Some people do not like the Grey Wardens and tried to stop us from helping people.”

Sera looked concerned at this. “I’ve heard of you Grey Wardens. You look out for the people who can’t help themselves, don’t you?”

“Something like that, yes,” Renya replied with a smile.

“That’s what I want to do when I grow up,” Sera said, pulling back on her bow and taking careful aim. “Not the Grey Warden part, but the helping other people part.”

“That is a very noble cause, da’len,” Renya commented, smiling as the girl fired. The arrow hit its target. She fired again with the same result; her face lit up.

“There you go,” Renya said, rising with a little difficulty. “Keep practicing, da’len.” Another arrow. “Yes, like that. Remember what I told you about your grip. And both eyes open.”

“Yeah. Thanks!”

Renya left her, grinning to herself. They walked through the alienage toward the entrance, accepting smiles and waves from the elves. News had spread about what the Tevinters had been doing, and what the Wardens had done to stop it. Kallian, sitting in the sun with her father, waved at them as they passed.

“Don’t be a stranger, Renya!”

A few dilapidated houses later, a man called out to them.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

Renya turned and her heart jumped into her throat. Hiding in one of the shadows of the houses was a templar, staring at her with milky-white eyes.

“Let’s go,” she muttered.

“Don’t worry, child. I still have some sight left by which to see you,” he said with a smile. Renya arched an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, I see you are an elf, my child. A Dalish one,” he added. He shook his head. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Ser Otto. From you face your past interactions with templar have not been very good.”

“That is putting it lightly,” Renya snipped at him. Leliana put her hand on Renya’s shoulder.

“Renya, please.”

Renya took a deep breath. “Can I help you with something, Ser Otto?”

“If you are willing, I’d be most appreciative,” Ser Otto said in his light voice. “I have been investigating some strange claims about the alienage. I feel a… a presence here. It has taken some time, but some of the elves have opened up to me. They have mentioned some… disturbing things.” He shook his head sadly. “Since the uprising, they have reported… seeing things, hearing voices in the night. But ears have gathered all they can. I need someone to be my eyes to investigate this further. Will you help me?”

“You said you can see me,” Renya said, her voice still clipped. She let the implication hang.

“You are but a shadowy outline,” Ser Otto replied. “I can see pointed ears, bright green – your eyes, perhaps? – and your forehead appears darker than the rest of your skin. I assume they are the blood tattoos of your people? You, too, miss,” he added politely to Nyviel, who nodded. He frowned. “But you are a mage. Are you from the Circle…?”

“She is with the Wardens,” Alistair interjected quickly.

“Ah, Grey Wardens,” Ser Otto replied. “A noble order. So you will help me, then? Bring some peace to these poor people? They have suffered much as of late.”

Renya sighed heavily. “What am I to look for?”

“Anything out of the ordinary,” Ser Otto said. “I cannot say for certain. But tell me what you find, if anything.”

They split up, searching the alienage for anything strange. Renya enlisted the help of Kallian again, who was now surrounded by small fledglings. The other elf nodded heavily.

“Check by the orphanage,” she said darkly, stooping to pick up a little fledgling who had fallen on the ground. “All kinds of terrible things have happened there.”

“Like what?”

Kallian looked haunted. “During the rebellion, soldiers, thugs, humans came and… and they invaded the orphanage before they left. It was… bad,” she finished quietly. She shivered a little. “If there is any dark force here, I would bet that it comes from that place.”

“What about the pile of dead dogs outside its side door?” The elf called Soris appeared next to Kallian. “They’ve been there forever, and no one’s come to claim them.”

“Or the poor girl who sits outside the front door, crying for her grandmother to protect her against the ‘bad men’?” Kallian added.

“Has anyone told the templar?” Renya asked.

“Ser Otto? No. He’s not a bad man, but there is a limit to the trust we put in one blind templar who just shows up one day,” Kallian said.

Renya nodded in understanding. “I will keep looking around then.” She watched Kallian play with a few of the young elves for a couple seconds before giving herself a little shake and checking around the orphanage. She ran into Morrigan there.

“There are putrid, dead dogs over there,” Morrigan said with disgust by way of greeting. She pointed. “And this blood smells of bad eggs.”

“Bad eggs?”

“’Tis strange, yes, but rage demons burn all when they attack. The smell is often of rotten eggs.”

“Rage demons?” Renya said incredulously. “Someone’s summoned rage demons into an elven alienage? Into an orphanage?”

“And we were just attacked by some wild dogs who sprang out of one of the windows,” Alistair said as he and Leliana walked over.

“Shall we tell our new templar friend?” Morrigan asked.

***

“Have you found anything?” Ser Otto, his white eyes shifting back and forth across the companions’ faces. They described to him what they had found and he rubbed his chin, looking troubled.

“One thing I can accept, but two or three? No, something is wrong. I will report the dead dogs, but…” He sighed. “The orphanage, you said? Yes, a sad place. So many killed… But we must go there at once. We must rid this place of the horrors that plague it.” And without saying another word, ran toward the orphanage with surprising agility for a blind man.

Nyviel met them at the door. “We’re going in there?” she asked when she had greeted Ser Otto. “But… she said there are ‘bad men’ who live in there and… I think there are demons.” The younger elf looked over her shoulder at another woman who was sitting on the ground, rocking and looking at the world with haunted eyes.

“That is why I am here,” Ser Otto said confidently. “I will send the demons back to the hole that they came from. Come, Ser Warden. Let us end this.”

He shouldered open the door. Renya and Alistair shared a look before entering in after him. Ser Otto walked in and took a deep breath.

“The feeling is intense here,” he said thoughtfully. “This is the right place.” He looked at Renya. “I know not if it is the work of the maleficarum, but there is definitely evil here.” Taking a deep breath, he reached out toward the door. “Come. I will follow you, Warden.”

They tentatively entered the next room. A ghostly figure of a boy ran past them, screaming. Renya jumped back, knocking into Alistair.

“Creators…”

The next room had blood splattered on the floor and the walls. Dressers were smashed, and a few beds were broken in half, as if hit by a large force.

“What happened here?” Leliana murmured.

“All is quiet,” Ser Otto said. “But I feel something ahead of us.”

Onward through the rooms; they eventually came to a room with bunkbeds. Abandoned toys littered the ground. Something snapped, making them all jump. One of the wooden toys had sprung to life for an instant as they walked past, jumping at them and landing with a little splash in a pool of blood. The grey walls were speckled with red. Here, there was even blood on the ceiling. Another toy snapped to life, and then another.

“Faster,” Morrigan muttered, putting her hand on Renya’s back and steering her forward.

Finally they exited the room into a little hallway. A girl’s voice floated around them, chanting a children’s tune.

_“Do you hear me, Ser Wilhem, Ser Wilhem?_   
_I am falling, Ser Wilhem, Ser Wilhem, today._   
_I’m a maiden, Ser Wilhem, Ser Wilhem._   
_But I’m dying, Ser Wilhem, Ser Wilhem… in pain.”_

The voice drifted into silence.

“The Deep Roads weren’t bad enough?” Nyviel muttered, looking around wildly.

“This way. I can feel it,” Ser Otto said, pushing forward. More toys snapped at them as they ran by. They stopped in the next room, Ser Otto leading the way. The floorboards creaked, putting them all on edge.

Doors on either side of them sprung open, and corpses of women, children, and mabari came streaming out. With horror, Renya noticed the people had pointed ears.

“He has cursed the dead!” Ser Otto cried, striking at the dogs. “He has made them rise in his defense! Maker have mercy on your souls!”

Renya’s stomach clenched as she struck down a little boy who had attacked her with a shovel from a fireplace, only to stab the woman who sprang at her after he had fallen.

“Children? You send _children_ to stop us? Coward!” yelled Morrigan, her eyes haunted as she pushed a child back into the oncoming horde, only for him to explode in front of her eyes.

“For I walk where only You lead me…” Leliana intoned, looking horrified and sad as threw a little girl off of her before stabbing her. “Maker, protect me. Forgive me,” she added, striking down another one of the undead children.

One of the women laughed as she attacked Nyviel. “I can’t die!” she screetched. “I can’t die! Nothing you can do! I can’t die! Their blood. So red!” She laughed maniacally. “So very very red!” She looked down and saw the point of Alistair’s sword pushed through her chest and looked up into Nyviel’s face. She burst out laughing. “You will die! So red! All will die! The world will be red!”

Alistair removed his sword and she slumped forward, finally silent. They were all visibly shaken at the end of the fight.

“These poor elves,” Ser Otto said. He sighed. “I wish I had been there that night, to help them…”

Renya looked at him with her mouth open, but didn’t say anything.

“Let’s get out of here, quickly,” Alistair offered. The next room was no better. The little girl’s voice greeted them with another chant.

_“One, two, Maric’s run through,_  
_Three, four. The kingdom’s at war!_  
_…Eight, nine, and now you die!”_

A perverse chuckle filled the air around them.

“Nothing in this room,” Renya said. She cleared her throat. “Let’s keep going.”

The next room looked as if a storm had taken it. Beds were broken, furniture had been tossed about and had splintered, and pools of blood were so deep that they were still sticky in the middle. The smell of sulfur was almost suffocating.

“Here,” Ser Otto said, spreading his arms. “This must be the center of it.”

“Fool!” yelled a voice that sounded like it bubbled up from mud. “Mortal! You do not belong here!”

“Blessed be the Maker, and His prophet, Andraste,” Ser Otto began.

“Your pathetic Maker is nothing compared to my glory!” the voice called back. The party had drawn their weapons and were staring around wildly, feeling eyes on them from all directions. Only Ser Otto appeared unafraid. He stepped forward.

“I command you, show yourself, demon! Hide in the shadows no more!”

Before she realized what had happened, Renya felt her respect for the templar rise.

A wretched, burning arm pushed its way through the floorboards. “You dare command me?” the demon cried as it pulled itself from the floor. It towered above them, but Ser Otto matched its gaze calmly.

“Let us see if your precious Maker can protect you now, worm!” The demon lunged at them, and Otto matched it with a bellow, hitting it with his shield. Ash warriors sprung from the floor, as well, and the party found itself in the midst of a frantic fight.

“Bow before me, worm!” the rage demon cried. Ser Otto pushed back against it.

“I bow to none but the Maker and His Bride, Andraste! I command you to return to your darkness, demon! Go back to where you belong!”

Soon the ash demons lay dead, and Ser Otto was left fighting the rage demon. Alistair sprung to his aide, and soon the monster sank back into the floor with a cry.

“We won!” Ser Otto panted. He smiled at Renya and Alistair. “At one time I considered myself quite the warrior, but you have accomplished what I could not!”

“I appreciate your willingness to help the elves,” Renya said quietly. Ser Otto nodded.

“We are not all unquestioning followers of what the Chantry teaches. Some of us have seen more of the world than others.” He smiled ironically. “There is more than one kind of blindness, I’m afraid.” His smile faded. “But there is still something not right.”

“Over here, beyond this wall,” he murmured, walking over to the other side of the room. “I feel a… a stronger presence here. We must enter.” He turned. “When you are ready, Wardens.”

They entered the room almost silently. The smell of sulfur was still strong. Blood still pooled, and furniture was splintered. Renya shook her head, knowing each of the beds represented a fledgling.

“You think you are safe?” called another disembodied voice, this one deeper than the last one. Renya glanced at Ser Otto, who had knelt to pray.

“Though the Golden City has fallen, I have seen Your face and Your light. I am your-”

“Save your pedantic Chant for your servants, templar. You have killed my brood.”

“The Maker compels you: show yourself!” Ser Otto demanded, rising.

Nothing happened.

“The Maker compels you!” Ser Otto cried, louder this time. “Show yourself!”

“The Maker?” the demon echoed with disdain. “There is no Maker. There is no Golden City. But there are demons. Yesss…”

“What?” Leliana’s murmur from behind Renya sounded offended and almost sad.

“He is a demon,” Renya murmured reassuringly before she realized what she was saying. “He will say anything.”

A book levitated off the floor and flew at them. Ser Otto knocked it away, frowning.

“I hear not your blasphemy! By Andraste and all the Divine after her, I order you to face me!”

“You delusional fool!” the demon cried as it pulled itself from the floor like the other demons had done. He bellowed and set the remnants of the furniture on fire. With a shout, Ser Otto yelled and charged at him, Renya on his heels. Vaguely Renya was aware of Morrigan and Nyviel trying to quench the fires while Alistair and Leliana ran forward, fighting the lesser demons that had been summoned.

Soon the rage demon collapsed and disappeared. Ser Otto and Renya shared a triumphant look and there, in the elven alienage of Denerim, a templar and a Dalish elf embraced.

“We have done it again!” Ser Otto said with a laugh, releasing her but still holding onto her arms. “I feel the darkness finally receeding! It will be gone soon, I am sure of it.” He let go of her arms and stepped back. “I have seen the work of demon before. Some maleficarum consort with them. One must have summoned one to this place. But the Maker must have guided-”

His words were cut off as a pitchfork was thrust through his armor from behind. He looked down at it, blood beginning to seep from his mouth, before slumping onto his knees. His eyes met Renya’s.

“No!” Renya screamed, jumping forward to help him. Her cry was echoed by her companions.

Horribly, the pitchfork rose in the air, Ser Otto still attached, before coming crashing down.

“Now,” the rage demon said, rising again. “You die.”

With a bellow, Renya sprung forward, not noticing if her companions were behind her or not. Grabbing Ser Otto’s sword from the ground where he had dropped it, Renya began hacking at the demon. Alistair was at her side in an instant.

“Ar tu na’din!” she screamed. “I will kill you!”

It took a very short amount of time for the demon to fall back into the floor, gurgling as it went before a small explosion announced its end. Renya ran over to Ser Otto and fell to her knees. He looked up at her.

“It is… peaceful now,” he said softly. “I sense… no more demons.” He closed his eyes. “I am sorry I could not do more for your people, my child.”

“You have done more than any other templar has, Ser Otto,” Renya murmured. She pressed his sword into his hand, and he gripped it weakly before opening his eyes again.

“May your Maker watch over you, falon,” she added as his breathing became weaker.

“May He watch over us all, child…”

Silence fell. Alistair put his hand on Renya’s back.

“I’ll tell the Revered Mother,” he offered gently. “She will make sure he has a proper funeral.”

Renya nodded and stood up, staring at the face of the only templar who had ever tried to help the elves.

“Falon’din guide you,” she murmured before gently closing his eyes and turning away. A glint in the dust of the floor caught her eye. It was an amulet. She picked it up.

“This looks like the necklace that poor girl described,” Nyviel said quietly. She reached out her hand. “I’ll give it back to her.”

Renya handed it over without comment as they exited the alienage. They began walking back toward Denerim’s market as Nyviel delivered the necklace. Morrigan looked at Renya curiously.

“You mourn a templar,” she observed.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Morrigan,” Leliana said reproachfully.

“What? I wish to know something about the Warden and I asked it.”

“I mourn him,” Renya interrupted, cutting off whatever Leliana was going to say. “Because he was a good man. It does not matter that he was a templar.”

Morrigan frowned thoughtfully. “It is obvious the Chantry did not force him to be here. Yet why help the elves?”

“It is what the templar are supposed to do, Morrigan,” Leliana offered. “It did not matter that the people he went to help were elves. He had been directed to help those in need, and, when given the choice, rose the the occasion.”

“Hm.”

“Let’s get back to the arl’s quickly, hm?” Alistair said, hurrying them along. “We don’t all have our disguises and people are beginning to stare…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ser Otto... :( I always liked him
> 
>  
> 
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	141. A Little In-Between

“Ah, there you are. I was going to send out a search party,” the arl greeted Renya the following morning. “I’ve been hearing of a great commotion in the alienage.”

“Loghain has sanctioned the selling of elves into slavery,” Renya said heavily, presenting the letter to the arl. He looked at it sadly.

“Maker, I hadn’t wanted to believe he would do something like that. Why?”

“To pay for his troops,” Alistair answered darkly.

The arl sighed. “This has his seal, but I’m afraid precious few at the landsmeet will care if elves were sold into slavery. I know,” he added hastily, raising his hand at the mutinous look on Renya’s face. “How terrible that sounds, but this is unfortunately not evidence that will hold much sway at the landsmeet, especially, excuse me, coming from an elf.”

He waited, but Renya didn’t say anything, her jaw working furiously as she chewed on her words. “The other nobles will merely see this as an unfortunate, but necessary, decision of a man who needed to fund an army.”

“He dragged people from their homes! _Dragged_ them! Even the fledglings!” she finally exploded.

Eamon sighed. “We have the support of many of the banns. You have become very popular, it seems,” he said, trying to placate her. “It is up to you, but I suggest not bringing up this evidence unless you have no other options.”

“How can you say this is not important?” Renya exhaled sharply. “Because it was not humans being sold into slavery,” she said, answering her own question. She noticed Eamon didn’t meet her eye.

“We must end the civil war quickly,” Eamon said now. “What the Blight does not corrupt in this land, politics surely will. The last of our allies have arrived in the city; we cannot delay any longer. I will call for the Landsmeet to convene. Bring Alistair and join me at the palace as soon as you are ready, Warden.”

He marched out of the room. Renya glanced at Alistair. “You don’t think he’s going to expect me to make a speech do you?” he said weakly. “I bet he will.” He groaned, but managed a little smile at Renya’s look. “Nothing I can do on an empty stomach, though.” His crooked grin widened and Renya echoed it. “Shall we?”

***

“…right in front of me,” Elissa said, looking haunted. “If only she hadn’t opened the door…”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Leliana murmured. “What a terrible ordeal.”

Elissa swallowed. She noticed her hands shaking as they held her knife and fork and placed them down before folding her hands together in an attempt to stop the movements.

“What about your parents?” Alistair asked, looking sad and leaning toward her.

Elissa shook her head. “They… they tried to buy me time. It may have worked. I may have gotten farther than if they hadn’t stayed, but…” Her voice cracked. She glanced at Leliana, who bowed her head as if in sadness, but scooted closer to Renya at the same time.

Alistair cleared his throat. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

Elissa smiled at him sadly. “Thank you. I spent a long time alone with my thoughts; I suppose they still get the better of me sometimes.” She picked up her fork and studied it without seeing it. “And my brother was lost at Ostegar. He was a scout. I’ve tried to find out news, but… I am sadly not hopefully of any being good.”

“I can try to find something out,” Alistair offered. He grinned when Elissa looked up at him, hopeful.

“I would be most appreciative. I lost everything in a day. It would be nice to get something back.”

“That can be arranged, my lady. I mean, Maker, I’ll try to find out something. I… I don’t have much to offer, but I’ll try and…”

Elissa laughed, cutting him off. “Thank you, Alistair. That is very kind of you, and I appreciate it.”

Alistair opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it and cleared his throat before looking down in a poor attempt at hiding his blush. Elissa chuckled again and he glaced up at her again, pleased.

Renya and Leliana shared a look before quietly excusing themselves.

***

“What do you wear to a landsmeet?” Renya asked Leliana back in their room.

“Well, I think they are going to decide who will lead the country, and the fight against the Blight, so perhaps it would be best to wear your formal attire,” Leliana began, frowning as she considered Renya. “Perhaps look the part the people want you to be?”

“I would suggest armor, actually,” Elissa interrupted from the doorway. “Excuse me. If the rumors I hear are true, it might get messy. You might be called on for a duel.” She stepped into the room. “I have to go, since I am representing Highever, but I just wanted you to know that I have a large group of soldiers loyal to me who are willing to fight alongside you if you call. Good luck!”

“Thank you, Elissa,” Renya said as the human noble disappeared down the hallway. She looked at her Warden armor apprehensively. It would be the first time she had put it one since before she had been at Fort Drakon.

“Let me help you,” Leliana said softly, taking the pieces off the armor stand. Renya nodded heavily and shut the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing spectacular, just a little wind-up before the inevitable punch...
> 
>  
> 
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	142. Landsmeet

Most of the group had been escorted to the castle long before Alistair and Renya left. Morrigan, Wynne, and Leliana stayed behind to walk with them in case of any trouble in the streets of the city, but they needn’t have bothered. Well-trained soldiers waited for them outside the gate.

“We are here to escort you, sers,” the captain said smartly when Renya approached them. “By order of Lady Cousland of Highever.”

“She was not kidding,” Renya commented to Leliana, impressed.

The made it to the castle with little incident. Inside, however, was different. Ser Cauthrien was inside the doors of the palace, pacing back and forth as she waited for them.

“Warden,” she said, coming over. “I am not surprised it has come to this.” Her angry gaze fell on Alistair. “And Alistair, if you were even remotely worthy of being called Maric’s son, you would already be in the Landsmeet, now wouldn’t you?”

Alistair raised his eyebrows but didn’t rise to the bait.

Cauthrien turned back to Renya. “You have torn Ferelden apart to oppose the very man who ensured you were born into freedom. But do not think you will get past me to dessicrate the Landsmeet itself.”

Renya crossed her arms, but Cauthrien wasn’t finished. “The nobles of Ferelden will confirm my lord as regent, and we can finally put this to rest.” She stared at Renya hard. “Once _you_ are gone.”

“Have you really not seen what Loghain has become?” Renya asked gently. She heard a scoff behind her that could only have come from Morrigan, but she stayed looking at the guard captain. She figured Cauthrien had been willing to see reason when they came for the queen, before Anora betrayed them, so perhaps she would do so again.

Cauthrien faltered. “I have… had doubts as of late,” she admitted. “Loghain is a great man, but his hatred of Orlais has driven him to madness.” She took a shuddering breath. “He has done terrible things. I know this, Warden. But I owe him everything; you cannot possibly understand. I cannot betray him. Do not ask me to!”

“Then let me stop him,” Renya replied. “You know it is the only way.”

“I… I cannot possibly…”

“Stand aside,” Renya said firmly. “Serve your queen and ensure the safety of Maric’s throne. The throne Loghain won back for Ferelden.”

Cauthrien finally nodded. “Your voice. It carries the assurance that his once did. I…” She stepped aside before kneeling. “Stop him, Warden. Stop him from betraying everything he once loved.”

As they passed, Cauthrien grabbed Renya’s hand. “Please,” she said, looking up into the elf’s eyes. “Show mercy. Without Loghain, there would be no Ferelden to defend.”

“I do not wish for further blood to be shed,” Renya said honestly. Cauthrien nodded and released her.

“Here we go,” Alistair said with a brave attempt at a smile before pushing open the door and holding it for the women.

Renya took a step in and hesitated when she saw the magnitude of the room and the sheer number of people inside.

“Go on, my love,” Leliana murmured. “We are right behind you.”

***

“My lords and ladies of the Landsmeet,” Eamon was saying to the crowd. “Teryn Loghain would have us give up our freedoms, our traditions, out of fear!”

Renya and Alistair made their way over to where Riordan was standing, leaving Leliana, Morrigan, and Wynne with their other companions near the middle of the room.

“He placed us on this path, yet we would place our destiny in his hands? Must we sacrifice everything good about our nation to save it?”

Some of the people applauded.

“A fine performance, Eamon,” Loghain responded, clapping mockingly after the noise had subsided. “But no one is taken in by it.” He chuckled with derision. “You would attempt to put a puppet on the throne and every soul here knows it. But who would pull the strings?”

His gaze fell onto Renya. “Ah, here’s the puppetmaster now!” he cried, pointing at her. “Tell us, Warden. How will the Orlesians take our nation from us? Will they deign to send their troops, or simply issue their commands through this would-be prince? What did they offer you?” he yelled now, his voice echoing around the hall. “How much is the price of Ferelden honor these days?”

Renya stepped forward to face the tall man. “The Blight is the threat here,” she said. “Not Orlais.”

“There are enough refugees in my bannorn now to make that abundantly clear,” said one of the female banns with a shake of her head.

“The south has fallen, Loghain,” said another. “Will you let darkspawn take the whole country for fear of Orlais?”

“The Blight is indeed real, Wulff,” Loghain allowed. “But do we really need Grey Wardens to fight it?”

Renya bit back all the things she wanted to say.

“They claim that they alone can end the Blight,” he continued mockingly. “Yet they failed spectacularly against the darkspawn at Ostegar, and they ask to bring with them four legions of chevaliers!”

Renya pulsed her jaw, feeling eyes on her.

“And once we open our borders to the chevaliers,” Loghain added. “Can we really just send them back to where they came from?”

Renya considered what to say next. Bringing up what really happened at Ostegar would prove futile, since her word against his meant little, and Eamon had said to not bring up the slaves unless she had to. Her back twinged and she remembered what Leliana said about the man from Dragon’s Peak.

“And yet your solution was to allow Rendon Howe to imprison and torture innocent people who opposed you!” she said clearly.

A shocked murmur went through the crowd.

“It’s true!” cried a man. “My son returned to me injuried, and some of his wounds even the best healing magic has not been able to cure!”

A pulse of outrage shot through the hall.

“Rendon Howe acted of his own accord and is dead by your hand, if I recall,” Loghain said nastily.

“Actually, mine,” rang another voice. Heads turned and Elissa Cousland stepped forward, dressed in fine armor. “He betrayed my parents, killed them, and had me tortured. He was about to kill the Wardens. I ensured his evil ways were stopped permanently.”

“Is that what happened to Bryce?”

“Poor Eleanor!”

More murmurs went through the crowd, these shocked and mournful.

“Enough!” Loghain called. “Howe was a grown man and will answer to the Maker for his crimes, as must we all. But I have a question for you, Warden: what have you done with my daughter?”

“What have I done?” Renya replied, her temper rising. “I have protected her from you!”

“You took my daughter – our queen – by force, killing her guards in the process. What arts have you employed to keep her? Does she even still live?”

“I believe I can speak for myself,” Anora said, stepping out of a side hallway amid shocked whispers.

“Lords and ladies of Ferelden, hear me,” the queen said, coming further into the room. “My father is no longer the man you know. This man is not the hero of River Dane.”

“Anora?” Loghain said, his voice suddenly soft.

“This man turned his troops aside and refused to protect your king as he fought bravely against the darkspawn. This man seized Cailan’s throne before Cailan’s body was cold,” she added, taking a gasping breath as she tried to keep herself in control of her emotions. “And locked me away so I could not reveal his treachery.”

She waited until the murmuring subsided. “I would have already been killed, if not for this Grey Warden.”

“So,” Loghain said, his head bowed. “The Wardens’ influence has poisoned even your mind, Anora? I wanted to protect you from all this.”

He turned to the assembly again. “My lords and ladies!” he cried. “Our land has been threatened before! It’s been invaded, and lost, and won times beyong counting! We have proven that Ferelden will never be truly conquered as long as we stand united! We must not let ourselves be divided now! Stand with me, and we shall defeat even the Blight itself!”

“The Warden!” someone cried from the back of the room. “I’m with the Warden!”

“South Reach is with the Grey Wardens!” called someone else.

Renya turned where she stood as the calls continued to come.

“Highever is with the Wardens!” came Elissa’s clear voice.

“The Warden helped me with a… personal family matter. I stand with them.”

“Waking Sea stands with the Grey Wardens!” said a woman’s voice.

A smile crept onto Renya’s face. They had done it. They had united the country.

“Dragon’s Peak supports the Wardens!”

“Rainesfere stands with the Wardens!”

“The Western Hills throw their lot in with the Wardens. Maker help us.”

“I stand with Loghain!” cried one small voice in the back. “We have no hope otherwise!”

“I stand with the Wardens!” called another man, drowning out the Loghain supporter. “A Blight is coming. We need the Grey Wardens!”

Renya turned back to Loghain. He had a very sour expression on his face.

“The Landsmeet is against you, Loghain,” she said.

“Traitors!” he yelled. “Who stood against the Orlesian emperor when he flattened your fields and raped your wives? You fought with us, Eamon!” he spat, turning on his heel to face the arl. “You cared about this land once! Before you got too old and fat and content to even see what you risk! None of you,” he challenged. “Deserve a say in what happens here! None of you have spilled blood for this land the way I have! How dare you judge me!”

“Call off your men,” Renya said, eyeing the guards who had drawn their swords. “And we will settle this with honor.”

“Then let us end this,” he said softly. A wave of his hand caused swords to be resheathed. He suddenly smiled at Renya. “I suppose we both knew it would come to this,” he said with a surprisingly friendly tone. “When we first met at Ostegar, I never would have thought so. But Ostegar…” He suddenly looked very old, and sighed. “It seems like it happened in another lifetime, to someone else.”

“It does,” Renya agreed sadly, feeling Duncan’s sword at her hip.

“A man is made by the quality of his enemies,” Loghain added thoughtfully. “Maric told me that once. I wonder if that’s more of a compliment to you or me.”

“The Hero of River Dane?” Renya said politely, but didn’t finish her thought. Loghain looked thoughtful.

“Enough of this. Let the Landsmeet declare the terms of the dual,” he said.

“It shall be fought according to tradition,” the bann of Waking Sea said. “A test of arms in single combat until one party yields. And we who are assembled will abide by the outcome.”

“Will you fight me yourself?” Loghain asked doubtfully, looking down at the much shorter elf. “Or do you have a champion?”

Alistair stepped forward.

“I will fight you myself,” Renya said before Alistair could say anything. Loghain’s eyebrows rose a little.

“So be it.”

The people gathered around them stepped back, giving Renya and Loghain space to fight.

“I would have finished this,” Alistair murmured as he walked past her.

“I know.” _That is why I stopped you, lethallin…_

Loghain and Renya now stood facing each other. Loghain nodded to her. “It is either you or me the men will follow. Let us fight to earn it.” He frowned. “Prepare yourself!”

They circled around each other, footsteps echoing off the stones as the crowd watched silently. Loghain drew his sword, eliciting a gasp, soon followed by another one as Renya drew her blades with a flourish. They continued circling around each other.

Loghain swung his sword, but Renya hopped out of the way. He was much larger than she was, and she doubted she would be able to parry many of his attacks, if she was able to at all. Out of the side of her eye, she saw Anora twisting her fingers together, her worried gaze fixed on her father. Renya watched as Loghain feinted, but didn’t fall for it.

Her mind was racing. The letters Zevran had found had confirmed what Loghain and Riordan had said; Cailan had invited the Orlesian Wardens and chevaliers into Ferelden.

Loghain swung again, and a clang of steel announced their blades had collided, but again Renya twisted away. They circled some more.

The letters had been fairly professional, until she found one addressed simply to “Cailan” rather than “His Majesty of Ferelden” and signed from “Celene” and not “Her Imperial Majesty of Orlais.” The letter had been an agreement to meet after the battle at Ostegar, without Anora.

Loghain charged, and crashes of steel echoed around the chamber as the two fought ferociously. They sprung apart from each other at the same time; the real fight hadn’t begun. They were merely testing each other’s strengths and defenses. The worst was still ahead of her, Renya knew.

Worse…

Worse still had been the letter from Eamon to Cailan, urging him to perhaps consider “putting Anora aside” in order to conceive an heir, as Anora was reaching her thirtieth year and still had not borne a child. Renya sighed to herself. Loghain must have found the letters. Renya reasoned that, in his mind, Loghain saw Cailan as not only inviting a very intimate alliance between Ferelden and Orlais, a country Loghain and his beloved Maric had fought so hard against, but as also leaving his daughter, whom he obviously loved dearly. Loghain hadn’t lied; everything he had done, he had done for Ferelden, or to protect his daughter. But that still didn’t make it right.

She noticed a movement and hopped out of the way as Loghain lunged at her again, bellowing. They flew at each other, and Renya began losing ground. She switched tactics; she was much younger and more agile than Loghain, and so began moving around the space as much as she could, hoping to tire him to the point where she would find a break in his defense.

It worked. After a few minutes of guiding Loghain around the front of the room, swords crashing off each other, the older man began to puff a little. He swung his shield at her, but she dodged it and rammed into him, knocking him off-balance and bringing him to his knees. Renya stood in front of him and crossed her blades in front of his neck, waiting.

Loghain dropped his sword and shield to the ground. “I underestimated you, Warden,” he said, out of breath. “I thought you were like Cailan, a child wanting to play at war.” He offered his arms out. “I was wrong. There is a strength in you that I have not seen anywhere since Maric died. I yield!”

Renya considered him for a moment, remembering another shemlen in this same position not too long ago. Out of the side of her eye, she saw Anora, wide-eyed and terrified as she watched her father kneel before the elf.

She released him. “I accept your surrender.”

“I didn’t just hear you say that,” Alistair said incredulously. “You’re going to let him live? After everything he’s done?!” He shook his head and gestured at the older man. “Kill him already!”

“He has surrendered, Alistair,” Renya said. “There has been enough bloodshed. I will not kill a man who is defenseless. Not again.”

“Defenseless? He usurped the throne! Killed Cailan! Decimated the Wardens! He is far from defenseless!” Alistair cried.

But Renya caught Riordan mouthing something at her frantically. She stared for a moment, watching him now try and mime his wishes, before turning back to Alistair.

“Let him become a Warden, then,” she said, her heart pounding while hoping Riordan knew what he was doing. “There is a Blight to fight, and he is a capable warrior.”

“What?!” Alistair spun on his heel to face Riordan. “You would allow this?”

“Loghain is a general of renoun. Let him be of use,” Riordan said, stepping forward. “Maker knows we need all the Wardens we can have.”

“He’s not exactly loyal to us,” Renya said, now that Riordan was speaking. But the Orlesian Warden shrugged.

“What does loyalty matter?” he said. “We are what we are. The Joining binds us to the darkspawn. You know this, sister. If you were to foreswear your oath and leave today, you would eventually find yourself in the Deep Roads or in a Blight-land, given time. There is an archdemon to contend with. Loghain would not get far before he was compelled to return.”

“The Joining itself is often fatal, is it not?” Anora asked. Renya noticed the half-moon indents on her hands from where she had gripped them during the fight. “If he survives you gain a general. If not, you have your revenge. Doesn’t that satisfy you?”

“Absolutely not!” Alistair bellowed. “Riordan, this man abandoned our brothers and sisters and then blamed us for the deed! He hunted us like animals! He tortured you! How can we simply forget that?”

“Because Wardens do what we must,” Riordan said softly.

“Riordan has a point, lethallin,” Renya added gently. “He could become a Grey Warden.”

“No!” Alistair cried. “Becoming a Grey Warden is an honor, not a punishment! He killed Duncan! Or have you forgotten that?” He grunted. “I didn’t want to take the throne, but I’m glad it’s mine, now. If that is what it takes for Loghain to receive justice…”

“Can you see what a disaster this would be if he were to be made king?” Anora said to Renya. “Using the throne for his own selfish whims?”

“Weren’t you going to marry, anyway?” Renya asked. This wasn’t perhaps the best time to bring that up, but it effectively stopped the conversation.

“No,” he said clearly.

“ _What?_ ” Renya and Anora said together.

“No. She was willing to kill her own father so she could stay queen,” Alistair said. “And I won’t have anything to do with a child of that filth.” He kicked Loghain for emphasis.

“Lethallin, listen to yourself…”

“No, people like her… she’s just like Loghain. Think they’re the only ones who know how to fix things. No, I plan on marrying Elissa Cousland.”

“What?!” Renya and Anora said again.

“What?” echoed a voice from the other end of the hall.

“This is not allowed!” Anora cried, but the Bann of Waking Sea interrupted her.

“It is, my lady. Alistair, as liege lord, may marry whom he choses, as long as she is a human of noble birth.”

Renya sought out Leliana in the crowd, hoping for guidance, but the bard was watching he conversation unfold with a shocked expression on her face. She caught Renya’s eye and shrugged apologetically. Renya had the distinct feeling that the bard would be able to navigate her way through this conversation, but it was too complicated for her to mime at the elf. And so it continued.

“I supported you!” Anora said, turning on Renya. “And we had an arrangement!” she added to Alistair.

“This is my fault, Anora,” Loghain said quietly, still kneeling on the ground. “I’m sorry. But it’s over. Hush now.”

Renya stepped beside Loghain. Alistair had just done something very unpopular, she imagined, by refusing to marry Anora. He needed some sort of alliance with this well-liked family.

“Let him help us now, Alistair. The Grey Wardens accept help wherever they can find it.”

“No, it’s over!” Alistair said. He drew his sword and advanced. “And my first act as king will be to punish this traitor for crimes against the crown and the Grey Wardens!” He swung at Loghain.

“Father!” Anora screamed. Riordan grabbed her to keep her from jumping between Alistair and Loghain.

Alistair checked himself when Renya appeared in front of Loghain, arms spread. The blade barely missed her.

“I conscript Loghain!” Renya cried, her eyes wide. “I conscript Loghain into the Grey Wardens!” Creators help her, she would not let Alistair’s first act as king be one of revenge.

Alistair glared at her. “We need Loghain in the Grey Wardens like we need to be stabbed in the back,” he hissed at her.

“He has been conscripted, brother,” Riordan said gently, letting Anora go. The young woman threw herself at her father and began sobbing.

“I won’t stand beside Loghain! I won’t!” Alistair yelled at him. His angry gaze fell on Renya.

“I once said the same thing about a templar, lethallin,” she said with meaning. “But here we are –”

“Don’t compare us to Loghain! I was not responsible for the death of the entire Grey Warden order in Ferelden and the king! Fine, you want Loghain in the Grey Wardens _sooo_ bad, have him! I’ll leave him in your care!”

His words rang in the hallway.

“I do not want you to leave us, lethallin,” Renya began softly.

“You should have thought of that before,” Alistair returned. “Funny, you said I should stand up for myself more, but now you don’t like it, do you?”

“I meant so people would not walk all over you, Alistair, not so you would act like a tyrant,” she hissed.

Alistair checked himself. “Fine,” he said. “Take Loghain. I hope it was worth it,” he added darkly as Loghain was led away, followed closely by Riordan.

Silence fell in the room. Doors boomed shut behind Loghain and Riordan. A little sniffle from the former queen echoed around the room.

“So… it is decided,” Eamon called awkwardly a few silent moments later. “Alistair will take his father’s throne.”

It took a few seconds for the gathered group to reorient to the original reason they had assembled.

“I accept this decision,” Alistair replied, not looking at anyone. “I will be king, if the Landsmeet will have me.”

“Anora,” Eamon said now. “The Landsmeet has decided against you. You must now swear fealty to our king and relinquish all claim to the throne for yourself and your heirs.”

“If you think I’m going to agree to that,” Anora said flatly. “You don’t know me at all.”

“Anora, be reasonable,” Renya said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“ _Now_ you ask for reason?” she demanded. At Renya’s incredulous look, she sighed and turned away.

“We cannot leave Ferelden in a state of civil war,” Eamon said. “If you will not declare fealty, you are a threat to us all.”

All eyes swiveled onto Alistair. After his initial display of power over Loghain, the atmosphere was thick. He swallowed.

“Imprison her,” he said. “Until she declares fealty or… or I think of something else to do with her.”

Anora looked shocked. “Oh, I… thank you, Alistair. That is… much more generous than I would have been toward you, had our positions been reversed.”

“I am not a tyrant,” he told her. “Take her away.”

“Your Highness,” Eamon said once Anora had gone. “Would you address the Landsmeet?”

Alistair looked around for a moment, until Renya elbowed him.

“Oh! That would be me,” he said with a nervous smile, striding forward. “Right. Um… I never new him, but from all I’ve heard of my father, what defined him was his commitment to protecting this land.” He faltered.

“Just tell them what to do,” Renya muttered, rubbing her vallaslin and shaking her head.

“The Blight is upon us!” Alistair said, giving no indicating he heard Renya. “Get ready to march! It’s going to take all of Ferelden’s strength to survive this Blight! But we can fight it, and we will beat it!”

Renya slipped out as the Landsmeet cheered.

***

“From this moment forward,” Riordan said, handing a chalice to Loghain. “You are a Grey Warden.”

“I… I understand,” he replied, eyeing the thick blood before taking a drink. He handed the chalice back and waited before pressing his hand to his forehead and falling to the floor.

“The general survives,” Riordan told Renya. He looked up at her. “Why were you so intent on sparing him? You have surely lost Alistair because of it.”

“He is the king. He cannot act on his own whims anymore,” Renya said dully.

“So not for the sake of the Wardens?” Riordan asked with a smile.

“We are what we are.”

Riordan chuckled. “Indeed. But look, he awakens. There is much we need to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy...
> 
>  
> 
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	143. Strategy

“So, because there are only three of you, Riordan thinks we have a better chance of the archdemon appearing?” Leliana asked. The elf way lying facedown on the bed.

“Yes. Because it will not feel as threatened,” Renya replied, raising her head just enough to be understood. “He thinks it will go to Redcliffe, so we will be marching out tomorrow morning. He was vague on how to kill it; it was more important to discuss how to move our armies from Denerim to Redcliffe.” She put her head down agin.

Someone knocked on the door. “Renya?” It was Elissa.

Renya mumbled something into the mattress and beckoned with her hand.

“Come in,” Leliana offered.

The door opened and Elissa walked in. She saw Renya lying on the bed and began to laugh.

“I feel the same way, friend,” she said. Renya sat up and smiled tiredly.

“Should I get up and bow to you? You are going to be queen now, yes?”

Elissa shook her head. “Why would he say that? We hardly know each other. I have to return to Highever, and…” She sighed. “That was the most dramatic Landsmeet I have ever heard of,” she said. “Once things have settled I will speak with him. You can’t just inform someone you are going to marry them.”

“He’s very handsome,” Leliana offered. “And he usually follows directions well.” Elissa chuckled, but her eyes were sad as she looked at Leliana.

“Yet I… yet he is still someone I hardly know,” she replied, glancing away from her and ignoring Renya’s arched eyebrow. “But the reason I came is to tell you that I have sent word to my soldiers and they are marching to Redcliffe. Eamon is leaving in the morning, and I am going with him, so I will see you there.” She smiled at the elf.

Renya’s heart hammered as the human left the room.

***

“So, er, Alistair’s not coming with us?” Oghren asked the next day as they climbed onto the horses Eamon was still loaning them.

Renya scowled at the dwarf. “No,” she said shortly. It had been another argument, one that had summoned servants and, eventually, Arl Eamon and Wynne to break up as the two Wardens stood inches away from each other, shouting at the tops of their lungs.

“Right. So… Tiny’s coming with us instead?”

“I really hope you’re not talking about me,” Loghain grumbled. Oghren laughed.

“’Course I am. Who else here fits the description ‘tiny’?”

“Kadan, I wonder why you chose this dishonorable man over the incompetent Warden.”

Renya blinked at him. “Between dishonor and incompetence,” she said. “What would you prefer, Sten?”

“Incompetence,” Sten said immediately. “At least I would not fear a knife in my back while I slept.”

Even Morrigan seemed bothered by the departure of Alistair. “He is a fool,” she said forcefully, walking beside the horses until they left Denerim and she could transform. “He is a fool and we are well rid of him.” But she didn’t look like she believed it.

“It was rash what he did,” Leliana said from behind Renya. “But I can understand his anger.”

“You’re Orlesian, aren’t you?” Loghain asked her.

“I grew up in Orlais, but I am Ferelden by birth. My mother –”

“Hm. Keep those pretty words to yourself, dear. You say you are Ferelden, but one small scratch at your exterior and you are Orlais, through and through.”

“It always comes back to Orlais and Ferelden with you, doesn’t it?” Leliana asked crossly. “Is that the only defining line you see between people?”

“Let’s just try to get to camp tonight without anyone killing anybody, shall we?” Wynne interrupted tersely.

They rode in silence for most of the day. Renya felt soothed by the gentle rhythm of the horse’s trot and tried to concentrate on the closeness between her and Leliana instead of the feeling that she had left someone important behind in Denerim.

After they had made camp, Loghain stomped over to her.

“I passed your test,” he said, sitting on the log next to her. “It seems fate has a twisted sense of humor, after all.” He laughed humorlessly. “You must think I’m a monster. You keep striking at me but I just keep refusing to die decently.”

“Yes,” Renya deadpanned. “I may have to resort to magic next.”

Loghain chuckled. “Indeed. So what was all that with the darkspawn blood and the mages, then? A puppet show? It seems that magic has also failed.” He looked at her out of the side of his eye. “I’d recommend a sharp knife in the kidneys next time. Less impressive, but it gets the job done. But we need to settle this between us, somehow or other, or neither of us will get any work done. So what will it be?”

“We need to work together.”

“Is that punishment meant for me or for you? And just like that, we’re allies?”

“We are both Grey Wardens now.”

“Indeed, it almost slipped my mind. Thank you for the reminder.”

“You cost me Alistair, you know.”

“Yes, well, you can thank me for that later. I don’t know what sort of concession you want from me, Warden. I doubt my word will satisfy you.” He chuckled when she didn’t say anything right away. “If you run out of common insults to call me, you can try elven. I won’t understand what you say, but I promise to be offended, nonetheless.”

Renya sat quietly for a while.

“What is it that _you_ want, Loghain?”

“What do I want? What an odd question…” Loghain stared into the fire a long time. “I want to ride back to Denerim and sit in the war room and find no empty chairs around the table. I want to lose nothing else. I want a line, clearly defined, that I can defend.” He clenched his fist. “I want an end to this war! All of this could rightly be called my fault. Whether or not you can do better remains to be see. If you can make this end,” he said, finally looking at her. “I will follow you. I swear it!”

“I will accept that,” Renya said simply. Loghain stared at her.

“You accept that?” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Renya held his gaze for a long time, searching his dark eyes. “Because you have sworn it. Goodnight, Loghain.”

And she got up and retired into one of the new tents they had brought with them, leaving Loghain sitting stunned by the fire. Neither one of them noticed Morrigan watching from the trees.

***

“I heard you demanded that the slaver Howe hired return the few dozen slaves he had already sold,” Loghain commented the next day as they rode through the bannorn. Renya looked over at him.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

Renya arched an eyebrow. “They had been dragged off from their homes. You fought for the freedom of your people, and yet were willing to enslave others?”

Loghain shook his head. “The alienage is a hopeless place,” he said. “Completely defenseless against the darkspawn. I was able to get some of the most desperate people to safety while filling the coffers of the palace and paying for an army. An army that is now half the size it used to be!”

“Using blood money,” Zevran said, pulling up on Renya’s other side. Nyviel was glaring at Loghain from her own horse.

“And flaunting your crime as keeping people safe,” she added darkly.

“She asked me a question,” Loghain said, looking straight forward again. “I answered it.”

Renya shook her head and continued riding, lost in her thoughts, still wondering if she was glad she had spared Loghain. He had tried to save Ferelden, albeit in one of the most misguided ways he could have. She sighed as Zevran began to argue with the former teryn and Wynne came over to intervene.

“You think that the worst of my transgressions?” Loghain demanded once the others had ridden ahead angrily. “Let’s talk about Ostegar, since your dear friend Alistair bemoaned it so much. Let us bring up Cailan’s death. I find the subject fascinating! Because he died, no one talks about how he rode into the battle against my advice. And because I survived, I somehow was at fault.”

“You refused to wait for the Orlesians and refused to wait for reinforcements,” Renya said angrily. “I heard you that night.”

A stunned silence followed this.

“He marched against your will, Loghain,” Renya continued. “But you gave him no other options. The darkspawn do not wait for you to amass a perfect military strategy. And then you abandoned him like a spoiled child who did not get his way,” she continued, her anger finally rising. Eamon’s letter suggesting Cailan turn Anora aside came back to her. “Did you wait for the Tower of Ishal to be lit before you ran, or only until his back was turned?”

“There is the venom I expected.”

Renya took a deep breath. “You want me to hate you, Loghain. You want me to hate you so you can feel justified in your actions.” She pulled her horse up in front of his so they stopped. She stared at him seriously. “I do not hate you, Loghain.”

“Oh, you wound me. Do you feel _sorry_ for me?”

“No. You gave me your word that you would follow me. I believe you.” She turned her horse and rode away, catching up with the rest of the group.

And so they continued for the next two days, with Loghain occasionally raging at Renya on some topic or another. The elf, true to her word, no longer rose to his bait and stayed calm. It was after the third day that the conversation changed. They had met a small horde of darkspawn, and Renya had led them in a desperate fight against the creatures. Although they were outnumbered, eventually the beasts all lay dead. She, Loghain, and Shale piled up the bodies to burn.

“You may actually be strong enough to accomplish this, Warden,” Loghain said thoughtfull as they tossed another body onto the pyre. “You beat me, and this…” He indicated the dead darkspawn. “Perhaps there is something more about you that I have only surmised before.”

Renya glanced up at the very tall man, wondering at his change in demeanor. He switched back and forth rapidly between respecting Renya and ranting at her about everything from misplaced accusations to Ostegar – they always returned to Ostegar. Renya began to believe that Loghain felt more guilt than he let on.

“Perhaps you will succeed in ending this war,” Loghain said. His eyes shimmered with the dancing flames of the makeshift pyre. “Perhaps you will succeed where I failed,” he said softly. “So many lives… I held the fate of so many lives in the balance, and I failed. There is no excusing that.”

“You have a chance to do something for those people now,” Renya said. “You will not fail them again.”

“No,” Loghain said, watching Renya walk back to her horse as a raven cawed overhead. “No, I won’t.”

***

“I don’t know why you’re so nice to him,” Nyviel said that evening.

“Yes, let Nyviel curse him. Maybe just a little one?” Zevran offered when Renya shot him a look.

“Indeed, Warden. I do not know why you trust this man,” Morrigan said, staring at Loghain as he marched a short distance from the fire. “He yells at you, insults you, and yet you do nothing.”

“He will do what is right,” Renya said.

“Of course,” Morrigan said. “You command him, now.”

“I do,” Renya said carefully. She was the Senior Warden now, after all. “But he will choose what is right in the end.”

“How do you know this?” the witch pressed.

Renya was silent a long time. “All people need sometimes is a choice… a chance.”

They fell silent as Loghain walked over to them.

“Warden,” he said smartly. “You said we have mages, dwarves, and elves who will be coming to aid us?”

Renya nodded. “And the armies from Highever and Redcliffe.”

“Hm.” Loghain nodded thoughtfully.

“So what do we call you?” Zevran said with forced politeness. “Lord Loghain?”

“I am no longer a teryn,” Loghain said with as little emotion as possible. “Nor am I a knight any longer. Address me as you would any other Grey Warden.”

“So… Loghain. Perhaps you don’t remember me, but I am the assassin you sent to kill the Grey Wardens.”

Loghain considered him. “I thought you looked familiar.”

“I am sorry to say that I failed on that mission.”

“You don’t say,” Loghain replied flatly.

“I am _terribly_ broken up about it.”

“Yes, well. Thank you for informing me,” he said sarcastically before turning to Renya. “May we speak? Redcliffe had interesting terrain, as I recall. We will need to decide the best way to defend it.”

“We will also need to account for the possibility of the archdemon appearing,” Renya added. Loghain nodded heavily.

“Yes, I have the nightmares, too.”

Renya considered him for a moment before rising. “Let us discuss strategy, then.” They walked over to where Loghain had a large map set up on a log.

“And what do you make of this?” Morrigan asked Leliana.

The bard shook her head; she had listened to the terrible things Loghain had said to Renya, but the elf had asked her to not respond no matter what he said, saying she would handle his words the way she thought best. At first, Leliana had thought the elf mad, but over the following days Loghain was proving himself an able fighter and loyal at least to his new cause, if not the elf who led them.

“Renya has given him a line to defend,” Leliana said now. “I think he will defend it with his life.” She settled her serious gaze onto Morrigan. “I trust the Warden.”

Morrigan’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she watched Loghain and Renya collaborate.

“Indeed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think all Loghain needs is a chance?
> 
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	144. A Little Misdirection

They approached Redcliffe the next day. Renya looked over at Loghain in confusion.

“It seems… quiet. But…” She closed her eyes.

“Yes,” he said with a frown. “I hear it, too. Singing. Those are the darkspawn, yes?”

“Hail, Grey Wardens!” cried a man running out to meet them. “Thank the Maker you’ve arrived!”

“What is wrong? Where is everyone?” Renya asked.

“They tried to run to the castle before those monsters attacked!” the man cried, pointing at a broken barricade. “I thought I could make it to my home but… Redcliffe is overrun!”

Renya and Loghain looked down the hill. Indeed, the village was burning and filled with darkspawn.

“Go. Get to safety,” Renya said, dismounting and pulling out her swords. She pointed at Wynne, Sten, Shale, and Zevran. “Go with him. Sten?”

“Kadan?”

“Rally the arl’s army. Be prepared to defend the castle if needed.”

“I will do this.” He waited until Loghain, Leliana, Nyviel, and Oghren dismounted and tied their horses to the remaining two before leading the man and the small party to the castle.

“We should wait for the troops from Highever to arrive, if the arl’s men are guarding the castle,” Loghain said sternly. Renya looked up at him, matching his expression.

“How long should we wait?”

A scream caught their attention. One woman, perhaps having returned to her home to collect belongings, was pulled toward a great bonfire in the middle of the town by her hair. As the Wardens and their companions watched, a darkspawn slit her throat before a small horde jumped on her, pulling off her flesh.

Renya looked back at Loghain, disgust on her face but severe nonetheless.

“There is no perfect military strategy against these fiends,” she said. Elgar growled, hunching down as the darkspawn finally noticing the group and began to run at them. “You either stand with us, or you go back to your empty chairs in Denerim. This is your choice, Loghain.” And she charged without waiting to see his decision, Elgar on her heels. Oghren was just behind her.

“Come here, beasties!” he bellowed, swinging his great axe at the oncoming darkspawn.

Leliana followed, keeping a safe distance while firing the arrows Morrigan had enchanted with fire. Nyviel pulled out her sword and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and, when she opened them, her eyes glowed white; she charged after Renya.

Loghain stood watching as the two elves and the dwarf cut their way through the horde, assisted by a dog, an archer, and a – very capable, he noticed – apostate. He shook his head. This elf trusted her motley crew to follow her. No plan, no fixed strategy, but – Maker preserve him – it was working. The darkspawn were falling at her blade, and her companions responded to her calls unquestioningly. He gritted his teeth, reminded of Maric again. He pulled his sword and readied his shield in front of him, barreling down the hill after Renya.

“For the Grey Wardens!” he yelled. “For Ferelden!” He crashed into an oncoming group of hurlocks and joined the fight.

“Good of you to join us, Tiny!” Oghren yelled, smashing his axe into an emissary that Morrigan had just stunned.

“Save the pleasantries for later, dwarf,” Loghain grumbled. A screech behind him caused him to spin around. A large shriek was baring down on him, its cruel claws extended. He raised his shield as it battered at him, until it fell dead, Renya’s short blade in the back of its neck. Their eyes met, and she nodded at him once before spinning and jumping to attack another group of darkspawn.

The monsters soon lay dead.

“Check the houses for survivors,” Renya called. Leliana and Nyviel nodded and ran off. Morrigan came over, watching Loghain curiously, but didn’t say anything. She instead addressed Renya.

“Warden, are you hurt?”

“No, no. We all made it through alright, I think. Help them search,” she said. She turned to Loghain. “We may as well burn as many as we can…”

A few minutes and many disgusting darkspawn bodies later, Leliana, Nyviel, and Morrigan returned.

“There are no survivors,” Leliana said sadly. Renya nodded heavily. Not all the villagers her escaped.

“Perhaps we should go to the castle?” Morrigan suggested. “We should re-group since the immediate danger has passed.”

They began walking up the hill.

“I don’t sense any other darkspawn here,” Renya said, her eyes narrowed in thought. “I would think if the archdemon was coming here, the singing would be worse, don’t you?” she asked, forgetting it was Loghain, and not Alistair, next to her.

“I would imagine so, yes,” Loghain said gruffly. “But who knows about such things? Let us get to the castle and see if Riordan has arrived yet.”

***

“My lady! Thank the Maker you’re here!” cried a guard at the palace gates. He saluted Renya quickly.

“What’s happened? Where is the arl?” she asked, taking in the darkspawn corpses on the ground and noticing Sten and Zevran being healed by Wynne.

“He is inside with the Grey Warden Riordan. They arrived here just ahead of the darkspawn. He has urgent news, and told me to send out patrols to watch for your arrival. Then we were attacked.”

Renya’s eyes hardened. “Then take us inside. There must be no more delays.”

“I will take you to the hall, my lady. They will be waiting for you there.”

They ran into the hall and were greeted by Arl Eamon, Teagan, and Riordan, all armed and looking grim.

“Thank goodness you are alright, Renya. And you, Loghain. The darkspawn that came here were relatively few in number,” Riordan said without preamble. “We assumed that the horde was marching in this direction, but that is not true.”

“What?” Loghain demanded.

“Riordan tells us that the bulk of the horde is, in fact, heading toward Denerim. They are perhaps four days away from the capitol,” Eamon explained.

“Why didn’t we know this before we left?” Loghain asked, frowning.

“I… admit we were misdirected,” Riordan said. “But I traveled close enough to listen in, as it were, and… I am quite certain this time.”

“Has anyone told Alistair?” Renya asked, unable to keep the concern from her voice. “Why is he not here?”

Eamon held up his hand. “We have sent word to him, but – perhaps you didn’t know this since your parting wasn’t exactly friendly – he is writing to your allies. Luckily he decided to call them to Denerim, so they will be on their way there.”

“Then we must march out immediately,” Renya said.

“I’m afraid there is one more problem, one that I am very concerned to say,” Riordan said. “The archdemon has shown himself. He is at the head of the horde.”

“Maker preserve us,” Eamon murmured to his brother. Renya head Leliana gasp behind her.

“But we can’t make it to Denerim in less than four days, can we?” Renya asked, looking to Loghain for support. He shook his head.

“We must begin a forced march to the capital immediately, then,” Loghain told her.

“Yes,” Eamon agreed. “Denerim must be defended at all costs.”

“We have built an army,” Renya said, feeling sick. “Let us now use it.” All those people; was she really about to command them to die?

“The horde must be defeated, but the archdemon is our true target,” Riordan said, staring at Renya and Loghain. “And only a Grey Warden may defeat it. That is why we must go. Immediately.”

“Eamon, how long until the army is ready?” Loghain asked.

“By morning.”

“Then let’s get them ready,” Loghain replied with a nod. “We cannot leave all those people defenseless.”

“If we are done here, then,” Riordan said. “I need to speak with Renya and Loghain about some Warden business.”

“Yes, thank you, Grey Warden. I will alert you the moment we are ready to march,” Eamon promised. He turned to Teagan. “Come, brother. We have a long night ahead of us.”

Renya turned to follow Riordan when a voice called out to her.

“Warden Mahariel! Warden Mahariel!”

She turned, and a young dwarven woman hurried over, dressed in armor that had once been very fine but now looked like it had been repaired many times.

“Yes?”

“I’m Rhelsia Aeducan,” she said. She nodded knowingly. “From your face, I can see that you recognize my family name. Yes, my little brother is Bhelen. And if you know him, you know he framed me for my brother Trian’s death and then exiled me. But I’m not here to talk about that,” she said. “I want to help. I want to be a Grey Warden.”

“We don’t have time for another Joining right now,” Riordan said.

“After the battle, then. I don’t care,” the dwarf replied. She turned back to Renya. “You’re a hard elf to find, but my men and I stand ready for your command. We heard you were marching to Redcliffe and came here as fast as we could. Now you’re off to Denerim?”

“Yes,” Renya replied, her head spinning from Rhelsia’s rapid-paced speech. “Your men?”

“Not much work topside for a dwarven princess, Warden,” Rhelsia said grimly. “But people always need mercenaries.”

“Mercenaries? How much are you going to cost?”

“To help you save the world?” She laughed. “No price for that, is there? Let me become a Warden and we’ll call it even.”

Renya glanced at Riordan, who shrugged and gave a nod.

“After this is over,” Renya said. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m glad that’s settled. We’ll leave for Denerim right away and meet you there. May you find your way in the dark, Warden.”

“…you, too.”

Rhelsia turned and marched out of the castle. “Let’s go, men!” she said, and a group of dwarves followed her out into the dusky evening.

Renya blinked at Loghain. “I do not even know what to say.”

“I’m impressed with your ability to inspire, Warden,” he said. “Perhaps you may lead us through this, after all.”

“You have said that before,” she commented, following Riordan up the stairs.

“Good. Maybe we will both eventually believe it.”

Renya sighed.

***

They walked into a bedroom and Riordan checked the hallway before carefully shutting the door behind them.

“You are both new to the Wardens and may not have been told how an archdemon is slain,” he said quietly. “I need to know if that is true.”

“No, and it’s something I’ve been most interested in hearing,” Loghain said, his eyes bright.

Riordan looked at Renya, who shook her head. He sighed.

“I had hoped Duncan had told you, but… have you ever wondered why the Grey Wardens are needed to defeat the darkspawn? They die under any blade, as I’m sure you have noticed.”

“Yes,” Loghain said flatly.

“I assume it has something to do with the taint in us?” Renya added.

“Indeed. The archdemon may be slain as any other darkspawn, but should any other than a Grey Warden do the slaying, it will not be enough.” Riordan sighed. “The essense of the beast will pass through the taint to the nearest darkspawn and will be reborn anew in that body. The dragon is thus all but immortal.”

“But we are tainted…” Lohain said with a frown.

“If the archdemon is slain by a Grey Warden,” Riordan said with a nod. “Its essence travels into the Grey Wardens, instead.

“The darkspawn is an empty, soulless vessel, but a Grey Warden is not. The essence of the archdemon is destroyed, and so is the Grey Warden,” he finished in a murmur.

“The Grey Warden who kills the archdemon dies,” Loghain said, staring unseeing at the wall over Riordan’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Riodan said matter-of-factly. “Without the archdemon, the Blight ends. It is the only way.”

A short silence followed this.

“So it is up to the three of us to kill the archdemon,” Renya said softly.

“In Blights past, the most senior Wardens would decide amongst themselves who would take the final blow. If possible,” Riordan said with a little shrug. “The final blow should be mine to make. I am the eldest, and the taint will not spare me much longer.”

“But if you fail…?”

Riordan took a deep breath. “The deed falls to you,” he said, looking at both Renya and Loghain. “The Blight must be stopped or it will destroy all of Ferelden before the rest of the Grey Wardens can assemble. And then the archdemon may hide in the face of so many Wardens. Remember that.” He sighed. “But enough. There is much to do to prepare for tomorrow, and we must all rest.”

“I will alert you as soon as Eamon tells me the soldiers are ready,” Renya said.

“Thank you. Now, retire to your rooms. I tell you these things not to dishearten you, but to prepare you,” Riordan said, his hand on the knob of the door.

“Ferelden will not fall,” Loghain said with force.

“We will defeat this Blight,” Renya agreed. They had come too far to falter now, but still her heart was hammering in her chest.

“Very good. Now, goodnight.”

***

“What is bothering you, my love?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you worried about the battle?”

“Of course I am. I have never commanded anyone in my life; that was not my place as a hunter. Now I command two armies of humans, an army of dwarves, the mages of the Circle Tower, and a clan of Dalish elves.” Renya sighed. “If I command them to die, they will,” she whispered into the darkness.

Leliana held Renya closer, not knowing what to say.

“Lelia?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I love you. More than I have ever loved anyone else.”

Leliana gave her a squeeze. “I love you, too.”

Eventually Renya’s breathing slowed, and Leliana closed her eyes, content that the elf had finally fallen asleep. She didn’t notice the green glints staring into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart's beginning to pound, you guys...
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	145. Two Choices

“My lady! The army is ready to depart!”

Renya startled, jarring Leliana. She got out of bed and opened the door, surprising the servant outside it.

“Alert Riordan and Eamon at once,” she replied. The young man nodded and ran off, and Renya close the door before grabbing the pieces of her armor. Her eyes met Leliana’s.

“A forced march,” she said. “Loghain says we will still only make it in five days. Hopefully Alistair will be able to defend the city until we get there.”

***

Renya had never been part of a forced march before, and decided that, while certainly a necessity in this case, it was not something she ever wanted to be a part of again. The soldiers marched quickly, almost jogging, and the calvary was pushed at a trot ahead of them.

Elissa Cousland met them on the third day. She seemed surprised by the sudden change in plans but rallied her men to follow the Wardens’ company easily. They could already see smoke looming in the distance, and the noble pulled her horse up alongside Renya and Leliana.

“We must be going to the right place,” she said grimly, indicating the burned trees and dead earth around them. “Have you worked out a plan to take the city back?”

Renya sighed. “Yes, Loghain suggested taking the main gate and the square, before marching through each street. But we’ll have to see where the archdemon is. That is our goal, at least for the Grey Wardens.” She looked at Elissa. “You should join us tonight as we plan.”

“I would be honored, Warden-Commander,” she said before riding back to her troops.

“Warden-Commander,” Leliana murmured with a little squeeze.

“Don’t. I already feel ill enough.”

“This is really happening, isn’t it?” Wynne said, trotting alongside them on her horse. The sun was beginning to set, but they still had a few hours of marching before they made camp.

“Yes.”

“You will succeed, Renya. Don’t think that you won’t.”

Renya felt, if possible, more ill. “Yes. I know. Ma serannas, Wynne.”

Wynne nodded in understanding, seeing the elf’s face set and grim. They continued in silence for a long time, until finally a horn sounded.

“We stop for the night!” cried one of the guard captains.

They set up camp, and soon a small village of tents dotted the field. Morrigan, somehow, still managed to set her tent up far from the camp, but when Renya went over to talk to her after her strategy planning with Eamon, Loghain, and Elissa, the apostate was gone. With a sigh, she started walking back toward her tent. A rustle in the trees stopped her, and she spun, sword in hand.

“’Tis only I,” Morrigan said, stepping out of the shadow slightly. “Be not afraid.”

Renya resheathed her sword and smiled. “I am not afraid of you, lethallan.”

That word. That word again. Morrigan forced herself to lean non-chalantly against a tree.

“How are you faring, Warden?”

“I feel like I am about to revisit the food I just ate,” she said honestly. She eyed the witch. “You, however, seem quite calm.”

“I am well,” Morrigan said. She took a deep breath. “’Tis you who are in danger.”

Renya raised an eyebrow but stayed silent. They were still a fair distance from camp, away from where anyone would be able to hear them, but Morrigan was speaking almost in a whisper.

“I have a plan, you see,” Morrigan continued softly. Renya walked closer to hear her better. “A way out? A… loop to your hole?”

When Renya still didn’t respond, Morrigan took a small step closer.

“I know what happens when the archdemon dies,” she whispered. “I know a Grey Warden must be sacrified, and that sacrifice…” Her voice wavered and she swallowed, angry at herself for not being able to control the emotion welling inside her. “That sacrifice,” she repeated more calmly. “Could be you. I have come to tell you that this does not need to be so.”

She waited for Renya’s reaction, but the elf was still silent. Thoughtful as always, but now also calculating. Morrigan kept waiting.

“A way out?” Renya finally asked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Morrigan said. “A way for all the Grey Wardens to survive; there is no need for such a sacrifice.”

Renya’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“A ritual,” Morrigan murmured. “Performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of night.”

Renya shook her head. “Nothing comes without a price.”

“You are right, of course,” Morrigan said, studying her nails for a moment. “Convince Loghain to lay with me, tonight, and I will conceive a child.” She misinterpreted Renya’s stunned silence and continued. “This child will absorb the essence of the archdemon but, in such a young state, will not be destroyed by it.”

Renya shook her head slowly, blood pounding in her ears. Morrigan continued, still not understanding.

“’Tis a ritual my mother told me about,” she explained. “Indeed, ‘twas the original reason she sent me with you.” She nodded. “At first, I resented this. Now, I see that I may not only preserve the soul of an Old God, but …” She smiled and she looked at Renya fondly. “I may also save the life of my friend.”

A short silence followed this.

“Why would I agree to this?” Renya asked, horrified. “You think I would curse a small fledgling like that?”

“Think of the Deep Roads,” Morrigan said, crossing her arms with a frown. She was a little disappointed that Renya hadn’t responded to the comment about being friends. “You know what happens when the archdemon dies, too, do you not?” she added crossly. “You saw it! The dreams you had about what would happen if you should perish: of your home, of…” She realized a moment too late the mistake she had made.

“And how do you know of what I dreamed?” The elf’s tone was instantly icy.

Morrigan stayed silent, heart pounding as she tried to calculate a way out of the conversation.

_Stupid,_ stupid _girl. Stupid mistake…_

“That was you, wasn’t it?” Renya narrowed her eyes again. She shook her head and took a step backward. “You… you gave me those potions. I had such worse nightmares then. You… you put those thoughts there!” she added fiercely, her eyes flashing. “Why did you-? It does not matter…” The elf waved her hand dismissively. “What matters is that you said you were helping me, and you were not. You were using me.” Her hands balled into fists. “You _lied_ to me!”

She took a step forward again, her eyes bulging as she realized what she said. “And you accused Leliana of manipulation and deceit! Has anything you have done been true?”

“I… when I said we were sisters…” Morrigan tried.

It had the opposite effect of what she intended. She found herself pushed up against the tree, Renya’s hunting knife to her throat. She looked down at the elf; both knew the mage could easily throw the elf off of her or, indeed, turn her into a toad, but the point was made. Renya removed the blade but kept Morrigan’s hands pinned to the tree.

“Sisters,” Renya growled. “Yes. _Lethallan._ I _trusted_ you. I _defended_ you. I _killed your mother for you!_ ” She stepped away, shaking her head. “All those times I thought you were helping Leliana or Nyviel because you cared for this cause, was it only because you wanted more reasons for me to trust you? Was it all a calculation?”

“Warden, I-” This was not going the way she had planned. She had expected the rational, objective Renya to readily agree to her proposal; it made sense, after all. This raging elf was far from what she had anticipated.

Renya shook her head in disgust. “You said you would always value our friendship,” she said. “You say this is to save me, your friend, your _sister?_ Fine. Figure it out yourself, if it means that much to you. If _I_ mean that much to you.”

Morrigan changed tactics. “What of Leliana? What would she say if she knew her beloved was in danger, and had the opportunity to –”

She was cut off by a slap.

“Do not _dare_ bring Leliana into this,” Renya hissed through clenched teeth.

_Perhaps honesty would work?_ Morrigan took a deep breath, her face stinging. “I can hardly convince Loghain on my own…” she tried, dropping Renya’s gaze.

“Then so be it,” Renya said with a snarl. “I am tired of people using me. I left my clan because I was asked to. I ran around Ferelden gathering support for a year because I was asked to. I fought demons because I was asked to. I killed the arl’s son because I was asked to. I rescued the queen and was tortured for it because I was asked to…!” Her voice was rising in volume. “Tomorrow I will die if I am asked to. You want something done, sister?” Renya asked mockingly. “Do not ask me! Do it yourself!”

And she stalked back to the camp, leaving Morrigan alone in the trees. As she watched the elf go, Morrigan reached up to brush away something on her cheek. When she brought her hand down, she noticed a single tear captured on her fingertip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that just happened.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	146. Tell Them

“Renya? What’s wrong?” Leliana asked when the elf had thrown herself into the tent. Renya took a deep breath and looked at Leliana sadly.

“What do you know of Grey Wardens? Of the Blights?”

“Well, I…” Leliana stammered, thinking. “I know the stories of the third and fourth Blights. They are still fairly popular poems to be sung in courts both here and in Orlais…”

“We are going to fight the archdemon tomorrow,” Renya said. Leliana nodded, trying to pick up the strings Renya was leaving for her. “What do the stories say about the archdemons?”

“That… they are terrible dragons and… usually there is a description of the Grey Wardens’ heroic actions…”

“And what do the stories say the Warden who slays the archdemon does after the Blight is over?”

Leliana blinked, thinking. “Well, other than Garahel’s fall from a griffin, nothing,” she said. “But that is hardly surprising. Who wants to hear about how the Warden retired and lived happily ever after in a small cottage by the sea? My love, what’s wrong?”

For Renya had pulled out her dar’misu and stabbed it into the ground, holding the grip with two shaking hands. She looked up at Leliana, and the sadness that Leliana had only just begun to notice now looked positively distraught.

“There is no happily ever after for the Warden who kills the archdemon, Lelia,” she said softly. “The Warden dies.”

A long, terrible silence fell.

“P-Perhaps Riordan, or-or Loghain…”

“Riordan has volunteered,” Renya replied. “But the final blow will fall to whichever Warden has the opportunity.”

“When did you learn this?”

“In Redcliffe.”

“And… and why did you not tell me?”

“…I did not know how.” Renya sighed. “I still don’t.”

“What changed?” Leliana’s heart was racing, but something about the elf’s haunted look kept her temper in check.

Renya recounted her conversation with Morrigan. Again, a long silence fell between them.

“So, you will be safe,” Leliana ventured. She saw Renya’s face and her heart sank. “No. You did not agree to her offer.”

“I left it in her hands. It is something she wants. It is her choice.”

Leliana frowned. “She is a selfish bitch, Renya. I know you have said she is your friend, but she is a bitch!” She sounded like she had been wanting to say that for a long time.

Renya nodded sadly, feeling sick and disappointed. “And so I am warning you about what might happen tomorrow.” She finally met Leliana’s blue eyes. “And I apologize for not agreeing to Morrigan’s offer.”

“There are too many questions,” Leliana heard herself say, forcing from her mind that they may have lost the only opportunity they would be given to live happily together after the Blight. “You did what was best.”

“You must promise me something.”

“Anything, my love.”

Renya gripped her keeper’s ring. “If… I do not survive tomorrow…”

“Don’t talk like that…”

“Take my ring,” Renya continued. “Bring it to my clan in the Free Marches, and give it to the keeper, Hahren Marethari. Tell her I…” Her voice cracked but she cleared her throat and continued. “Tell her I kept my promise.” She swallowed hard. “And… find Merrill…”

Leliana gripped her hands together.

“Tell her…” Renya sighed. “Tell her I understand, and I hope she does, too.”

“And what should I keep?” she asked, trying for humor but failing. Renya kissed her, her fingers seeking the amulet Leliana was still wearing.

“My heart,” Renya murmured. “My love. Everything else, vhenan.” She pulled Leliana into a hug. “Everything I have is yours…”

***

Leliana buried her nose in Renya’s neck, inhaling the scent of pine and fresh air as if wishing to impress it upon her memory. The feel of Renya’s curly hair, her warm body against her, how her calloused fingers gently stroked her hair or drew ticklish shapes on her back. She closed her eyes and forced herself to imagine Renya’s eyes twinkling at her, as if to prove to herself that she would remember the exact shade of green forever.

Tears had mingled with their sweat as they quietly made love in their tent, surrounded by the low rumbling of the camp around them. More than anything, it had been made up of a desire to touch, to feel, to imprint memories desperately. They had fallen asleep, and then awoken to start again. Now Leliana lay clutching Renya to herself, their foreheads pressed together and their legs entangled. She wasn’t sure Renya was asleep or if the elf’s eyes were closed so the glints weren’t visible.

“Renya?”

“Lelia?”

Leliana took a deep breath. “You have… been a light in all of this darkness. You lit my path when I was lost, and I…” She kissed Renya, feeling another tear trickle down her cheek. “Win this war for us, my love. And-and then… come home…”

She felt Renya shudder as a soft sob escaped her.

“You know I will not promise something if I do not know I will keep it…”

“My love…”

“I will do my best, Lelia… For you, I will try.” Renya kissed her. “Are you frightened?”

“No,” Leliana said, shaking her head and kissing Renya again. “We are going to fight a good fight. There is nowhere else I would rather be than by your side.”

“Hm.”

“You don’t believe me?” she said, trying to regain her flirtatious tone. “Should I give you reason to believe I would rather be by your side than anywhere else?” But her words sounded flat, and they both knew it.

“I would rather you just stay awake with me until morning,” Renya said simply. She kissed Leliana.

“You should sleep, my love. Rest. You are surrounded by many who will protect you.”

“I will not sleep. Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“…Because _I_ am frightened.” She held Leliana closer. “Will you tell me the story of Alindra and her soldier-love again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw... I'm not crying, you're crying...
> 
> Sorry I've been so absent, guys. I'll post again this weekend to make up for it!
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	147. Survived So Much

Leliana woke with a start, an apology on her lips. After promising Renya to stay awake with her, she had eventually succumbed to sleep, lulled by Renya’s hearbeat and steady breathing. But the tent was empty. Cursing herself, she hastily put on her armor and exited the tent. Renya was easy to find; she was a dark silhouette against the sunrise. The rest of the camp was only beginning to stir.

“It is so peaceful,” Renya commented to her in wonder, watching the sun peek over the hills. She shook her head sadly. “You would hardly know the world might end.”

“I wonder if this is how the heroes of old felt?” Leliana said, wrapping her arms around the elf, already clad in her Grey Warden armor.

“Well, if you ever write a song about me, be sure to leave out all the parts where I almost needed a change of pants,” Renya said with a small half-smile. “I want all the future Wardens to think I was brave and fearsome and not afraid of anything. And maybe a little taller.”

“Writing your own epic already, my love?”

“Mhm.” She turned her head. “Come with me,” she said, gently taking Leliana’s hand and leading her to the edge of the forest of dead and dying trees still grasping desperately to the scortched earch. There, at the root of one of them, grew a small sprig of Andraste’s grace.

“I cannot bear to pick it for you,” Renya whispered, pointing. “It has survived so much already.”

Leliana kissed her in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .......
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	148. Hold the Line

A horn sounded. The tents were packed up, but none of the soldiers shouldered them this time. The feeling was grim as they walked the last few miles to Denerim. A large company awaited outside the city gates.

“Has Denerim fallen?” Loghain demanded, pulling his horse up.

“No, I see the banner of the king. They may have evacuated the city,” Leliana said, squinting around Renya. “Alistair has come out to meet us with his troops.”

They walked faster. A great commotion commenced as the two forces met outside the gates. Renya noticed Greagor and the few templar beside him watching the nearby Dalish elves warily, and the elves were responding by ignoring him. Some of them, Renya noticed, were mages. She smiled to herself. Templars standing beside Dalish apostates.

“One nice thing about the Blight,” she quipped to herself. “Is that it brings people together.”

Rhelsia was speaking with some of the dwarven generals, who appeared willing to follow orders from their former princess. First Enchanter Irving had found Wynne in the crowd, and Elissa had been pulled aside by Alistair. Elissa looked elated as she hugged a young man who looked a great deal like her.

“My lord!”

Ser Cauthrien walked up to where Loghain and Renya were standing.

“My lord, what is next?”

Loghain smiled but indicated Renya. “She is the Warden-Commander, Cauthrien,” he replied. “We follow her command.”

“I…oh. Yes, of course,” Cauthrien said, surprised. She turned to Renya.

“We will enter Denerim, and the human armies will hold the square,” the elf said. “The elves will come with us to defend the alienage, and the dwarves will use their explosive powder to break down any barricades the darkspawn have set up. Our primary goal is for the Grey Wardens to reach the archdemon.”

Cauthrien paled. “Archdemon?”

“Yes. Tell Elissa and the other commanders. Elven, dwarven, human – everyone.” Renya tried not to smile when she saw Leliana look impressed at the command in her voice.

“Yes, Commander. I will relay your orders to the troops.” And with a salute, she was off.

“Leliana?”

The bard turned around, and her face broke into a grin as she threw her arms around an elven mage. Renya arched her eyebrow but smiled.

“Sketch!” Leliana cried. She pulled away a little. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard rumors that a red-haired Orlesian was fighting with the Grey Wardens,” he said with a shrug. “I thought I’d come see if the rumors were true, of course. Are you one of them now?”

“No, I’m just… helping. This is Renya, the Grey Warden I’ve been traveling with. Renya, this is Sketch, a dear friend of mine.”

She nodded at him politely.

“So you’re the Grey Warden everyone has been talking about,” he said, glancing her up and down. “Your pardon, but I expected you to be taller.”

Renya glanced meaningfully at Leliana.

“Have you heard from Marjolaine?”

“She has gone back to Orlais,” Leliana said shortly. “She will not return.”

“Are you sure about that?” Sketch said. “Has she ever left anyone alone?”

“But… this is different…” Leliana insisted, looking distracted. She gave herself a little shake. “We can’t worry about that right now.”

“No, because we have a heavily-armored problem,” Renya said, watching one of the templar march over. It was the one who had been trapped in the magic bubble at the Tower. She didn’t remember his name. Carven or something.

“You’re not a Dalish elf,” he said, drawing his sword and pointing it at Sketch.

“I’m here to fight alongside the Grey Wardens –” the elf began.

“He’s with us, Ser Knight,” Leliana said, stepping between the sword and her friend.

“We were told to not harm the Dalish mages, but I still must protect the people from possible maleficarum…”

“The enemy here is the Blight,” Loghain cut in, who had been pretending to not listen to the conversation. “We can leave our petty differences aside.”

“He’s an apostate!”

“Yes, and I’m a traitor,” Loghain growled. “Leave us. We have more important things to do than squabble between mages and templar right now.”

Suddenly Alistair jumped onto a box and waved his arms to get everyone’s attention.

“Before us,” he yelled once everyone was quiet. “Stands the might of the darkspawn horde! Gaze upon them now!” he continued, pointing at the gates. “But fear them not!” He took a deep breath. “The woman beside me is an elf.”

All eyes fell onto Renya. Leliana nudged her, and she walked forward and stood next to Alistair. The king refused to look at her.

“She has risen to the ranks of the Grey Wardens, and never a more glorious Grey Warden has there been. She is proof that glory is within reach of us all!”

Cheering erupted then. Renya nodded awkwardly. But Alistair wasn’t done.

“She has survived despite the odds, and without her, none of us would be here!”

Renya stood quietly, studying the king. She wondered how much of this was him rallying his army, and how much was him speaking to Renya.

“Today, we save Denerim! Today, we avenge the death of my brother, King Cailan! But most of all, today we show the Grey Wardens that we remember and honor their sacrifice! For Ferelden!” He pointed at the gates. “For the Grey Wardens!!”

A battle cry rose up. Alistair met Renya’s gaze for a brief moment before he stepped down from the box. The army made a pathway for her, ready to follow her into battle. She swallowed and began walking, aware of Loghain and Riordan following her.

“Maker bless you, Warden!”

“We stand with you, Warden!”

“You will save us! Maker watch over you!”

Renya started jogging, her breathing fast and her heartbeat faster. More cheering reached her ears.

“Huzzah for the Warden!”

“Maker bless you!”

“I will follow you to the end, Warden!”

She broke into a run, drawing her swords as the darkspawn loomed in front of her.

“For the Grey Wardens!” she yelled. Another cheer went up and she heard the pounding of thousands of feet as they stormed the city gates. The three Wardens charged ahead of the rest of the army, all yelling as the darkspawn ran to meet them. In a sickening crunch of metal on metal, the two armies met and Renya lost track of everything except herself and her own survival. Screams filled her ears, and horrible screeching rose even above that as the soldiers fought the darkspawn. Around her, men and darkspawn fell, and Renya took in the chaos around her in brief snips: Oghren lopping the head off of an emissary, Elgar lunging at the throat of an ogre. Leliana had scaled the wall of a broken building and was now perched in the second-story balcony, providing as much cover as she was able. Mithra was next to her, similarly engaged.

A young man fell next to Renya, and she had a moment to register that he was young, younger even than Nyviel, before she killed the darkspawn who had brought about his death. She glanced at the young man again, guilt filling her, before the singing changed. She looked up and watched as a dragon flew across the sky. She raised her sword, and another cry went up as the men charged again, pushing the darkspawn back. Eventually they made it past the gates and into the market place.

It was a disaster. Buildings were burning, the market was destroyed, and pools of blood stained the cobblestones red.

“Hold the gate!” Renya told Cauthrien, seeing the captain run by. She nodded and a few seconds later a horn sounded. A new wave of darkspawn had appeared, but Cauthrien’s soldiers fought bravely as Renya, Riordan, and Loghain ran toward where the archdemon had disappeared. Rhelsia appeared beside the elf.

“Rhelsia,” Renya said. “Come with me. We need to get to the alienage.”

“Aye. Will do,” she said before pulling out a horn of her own.

Riordan charged ahead as Loghain continued to cut a path through the darkspawn. Renya found the elven archers.

“Elvhen!” she cried. “Garas! Come with me!”

As one, the elves turned and followed Renya as she ran for the alienage. She beckoned them on even as she paused.

“Sten!” she cried into the chaos. She saw the qunari slicing through the darkspawn easily, his face as stoic as ever. He looked up as the last one fell.

“Kadan?”

“We are going to free the alienage, and then follow the archdemon,” she said, running to him and pointing at the dragon circling the high towers further into the city. The rest of her companions saw her talking to the qunari and joined them. The darkspawn were fewer in number now. She looked around. “I want you to come with me. I need to know I have you at my back; the armies have enough to worry about.”

“We’re with you, Renya,” Nyviel said, her eyes glowing white and her voice multi-toned.

“Where you lead, I will follow,” Zevran added. “I would march into the Fade and take the Black City itself if you commanded it of me, my friend.”

Renya nodded, noticing for the first time that Morrigan wasn’t with them.

“I will go with you,” Shale said, stomping after the elves walking toward the alienage. “As long as you provide ample things to squish.”

Renya chuckled in spite of herself. “Then, to the alienage!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the alienage...
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	149. To The Alienage

They came across Shianni, looking around in shock as the alienage was overrun with dwarves and Dalish elves. Kallian was with her, her two blades drawn and at the ready.

“No, we need to get out of here, Kallian. The alienage is lost,” Shianni said. “Look, the Wardens are here. They will help us!”

“Why do you run?” Renya asked.

“Are you kidding me?” Shianni asked. “Have you seen those things? We only barely got the gate up in time. It won’t last much longer.”

“You are elves!” Renya replied with a shake of her head. “Fight like one!”

Shianni wavered for a minute, then nodded. “You’re right. This is our home. We need to defend it.” She turned to the city elves standing around her. “Well, come on! Grab what you can! We will defend our homes!”

A crash announced that an ogre had broken the gates the elves had constructed. Darkspawn poured into the alienage. Renya smiled in spite of herself when she saw Lanaya’s hunters high in the vhenadahl tree, firing arrows at the creatures. The dwarves were likewise battling, swinging swords, axes, and mauls at the oncoming horde. Briefly, Renya saw Kallian and Shianni standing side by side, wielding swords and a pitchfork, respectively. Out of nowhere, darkspawn emissaries appeared, and Renya found herself thrown backward. She rose with a groan, which turned into a yelp as a genlock jumped on her. A terrible squelch announced its end, and Renya looked up into Kallian’s fierce eyes.

“Serannas,” Renya said, rising, but Kallian had already run off. A large hurlock was bearing down on Leliana, and Renya charged with a bellow, ramming her shoulder into the monster and running it through with her sword.

“For Ferelden!” came Loghain’s cry as he slashed through the darkspawn, only to be similarly thrown by an emissary.

Nyviel, surrounded by a shimmering shield of energy, appeared unaffected by the spells, and, upon noticing this, began to slice her way through the emissaries. Seeing the elven mage focusing on the dark mages, the other elves began to clear a path through the sword-weilding darkspawn for her. Eventually all the monsters lay dead, and they stopped to catch their breath.

“Creators,” Renya panted. She leaned on Elgar for support.

“We did it!” Shianni said, elated. “Thank you, Renya, for coming back to save us. And thank you,” she added to the Dalish elves. “For standing beside us.”

The Dalish elves nodded and smiled, some looking very thoughtful.

“But I’m sure there is more for you to do,” Kallian said, noticing the dragon fly overhead again. “We will evacuate the rest of the elves. Thank you, Grey Wardens.”

They left the alienage and ran for one of the gates leading into the heart of the city. Riordan ran up to them.

“We’ve managed to get this far,” he said, also out of breath. “We’re doing better than I hoped.”

“This will not last long,” Sten deadpanned.

“Bloody nug-runners. We’re outnumbered three-to-one!” Oghren grumbled.

Wynne sighed. “What do we do now, Riordan? You have a plan, I assume?”

“The army will not last long,” he said, glancing back to where Cauthrien, Elissa, and their men were still fighting. “So we need to move quickly to meet the archdemon. But some should stay and help guard the gate.”

“Wait. How are we to take down a flying dragon?” Renya asked.

“We will have to get to a high point. I’m thinking the top of Fort Drakon will work.”

“You mean to say,” Loghain interrupted. “That you intend to draw the dragon’s attention?”

“Yes. But make no mistake. Once we engage the archdemon, it will call all its generals to defend it.”

“So we must defend the gate,” Renya clarified. “And defend the entrance to Fort Drakon, and fight our way through the fort before defeating the archdemon?”

“That is correct, yes.”

Renya forced a smile. “Tel’enfanim.” She turned to Rhelsia. “Can you and your men keep the darkspawn from following us?”

“Yes, Commander. No problem.” She turned and called a few orders to her men and the generals from Orzammar in the dwarven language. “I told them to get the explosive powder ready. You won’t have to worry about anything following you so long as we’re standing, Commander.”

Renya nodded before turning back to Riordan. “Where are the mages?”

“I sent them ahead to set traps.”

“You sent them ahead?” Wynne asked in disbelief.

“Yes. Another reason to move quickly, I think.”

“Then let’s go,” Renya said. She nodded at the Dalish elves, who followed behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....so close......
> 
> New chapter soon, I promise. I'm sorry I've been offline for a while.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	150. An End, Once and For All

It was slow, moving through the streets of Denerim. Darkspawn had overrun the entire city, and each street was another battle. During one such fight, Renya saw Riordan run off, following the dragon, and she wondered if she should follow. But they were surrounded, and her mind was soon occupied with surviving the next wave of enemy.

They eventually made it to the fort. Renya turned to the elves. “Stay here and keep them from following us up the tower,” she said. They still hadn’t found the mages, and Renya tried to stay positive. A horn sounded, and Renya looked up to see Elissa and a small group of soldiers run up to her.

“The gate is secure,” she said. “For now. Cauthrien is holding it, and told me to follow you.”

Renya nodded and glanced at Loghain.

“So the elves will defend the door,” he said. “Your armor will not protect you against a dragon’s fire, I’m afraid. Lady Cousland and her men will accompany us.” He looked down at Renya. “Perhaps some of our party should stay, as well?”

Renya took a deep breath and nodded. It made sense. She looked at the group before her, all watching her intently.

“Sten,” she said.

“Kadan?”

“I want you to stay here. Lead the defense of the fort.”

The qunari actually smiled. “That is most satisfactory.” He inclined his head. “Until we meet again, Kadan.”

She nodded back. “Oghren, I want you to stay with him.”

“Right. Send the beasties my way. Ol’ Oghren will show ‘em what for!” He laughed loudly, but quickly sobered. “Listen, Warden. Er, you took a chance on an old drunk like me, showed me what it means to be a warrior again. To have something to fight for. To live for. I appreciate that. Now, let’s show ‘em our hearts before we show ‘em theirs, eh?”

“It has been an honor, falon.” Renya smiled. “Shale?”

“You talk to me like I want to go and slay a dragon with you?” Shale asked. She shook her head. “I have to say it has been… fun traveling with it. But do try not to get eaten, yes? Because if you do, and the dragon poops you out… Well, fate dictates that it would land on me.”

Renya laughed, her throat tightening. She couldn’t start crying, not now.

“You have my swords, if you need them,” Zevran said with a little bow.

“I know, Zev, but I need you to stay here.”

“Of course,” he said, but he looked disappointed. “I’d prefer to not have fire spit at me, anyway. I am much too handsome for that, do you not think so?” He cleared his throat and smiled charmingly. “But this is not goodbye, my lovely Warden, yes?” His smile faltered. “I will hope to share a warm, enthusiastic, but completely platonic hug with you when this is all over… my friend.”

She laughed. “Always the flirtatious Antivan.”

“Always.”

She looked around at Leliana, Nyviel, and Wynne. She wished she could send them all home, tell them to go somewhere safe. She tried to think of something profound to say, but it didn’t matter. Her voice was stuck.

“Let’s go,” she managed.

A loud cry caught their attention. Riordan had jumped off one of the towers as the archdemon flew past, and from where she was standing she could see him bury his sword in its back. She felt Leliana grab her hand hopefully.

But something was wrong. The archdemon banked, and Riordan lost his grip. As he fell, he thrust his shorter blade into the creatures wing, and for a moment it held before the blade sliced through the black leathery skin. The archdemon bellowed and reeled away, collapsing onto the top of the fort.

Riordan fell from the sky.

He landed somewhere behind the fort, sparing them the moment of impact, but Renya felt lightheaded for a moment all the same. She blinked furiously before turning to Loghain.

“He has injured it,” she said as evenly as she could. “We need to hurry.” Neither one of them discussed who would take the final blow. It didn’t matter. Whoever was able to kill the fiend would do it. Fate would decide for them.

She pushed open the door to the fort and walked in. Dead bodies of human soldiers littered the ground.

“Darkspawn ahead,” Renya said, pointing. Her head began throbbing as the archdemon began singing, more frantically now. They stood their ground as the monsters charged. Elissa drew her sword.

“For the Wardens!” she cried. Her soldiers charged. “Go!” she yelled to Renya. “Finish this!”

As the Wardens and their few remaining companions pushed past, one of Elissa’s men fell at their feet, dead.

“So young,” Wynne murmured to herself. Renya’s throat tightened as if the mage had yelled the words at her accusingly. But they pressed on.

They fought their way up the stairs, through the rooms, and up more stairs. Renya noticed the guard who had tied her to the spiked chair in the dungeon lay dead, impaled on a spear. The woman who had called Leliana a whore was next to him, also dead, her eyes no longer seeing the people she stared at. She gave herself a little shake and moved on.

“It’s getting close,” Loghain said. He rubbed his forehead. “I can… I can hear it in my mind.”

Up another flight of stairs, and they came to a heavy door. The draft coming from it announced it was the door to the roof. Renya turned and looked at her friends. Elgar whined and bumped against her leg. She patted his head. A somber mood fell over the group; this was the end, and they all knew it.

“I’m… so very proud of you,” Wynne said quietly. “And infinitely proud we have become friends.”

Nyviel was watching Leliana carefully. She caught Renya’s eye. “Oh, go on, then,” she said, her throat too tight to say anything else as she gave a little nod in Leliana’s direction.

Renya pulled the bard into a hug. She released her and put her hand over the amulet tucked under Leliana’s armor. “This is where my heart will always be,” she murmured. “No matter where I am.”

Leliana nodded. She swallowed, and the shimmering tears in her eyes disappeared almost instantly. “We go to forge a legend of our own.” She managed a small smile. “Let us finish this, my love.”

Loghain pushed open the door and they ran out onto the roof before skidding to a stop. There in front of them was the largest dragon Renya had ever seen.

“Dear Maker,” Loghain muttered, raising his sword.

“Mythal protect us,” Renya whispered at the same time, her mouth suddenly dry.

They had found the mages, too. They, alongside First Enchanter Irving, were firing spells rapidly at the beast, trying to paralyze it. Unfortunately darkspawn had risen to defend their master, and a few of the mages already lay dead. Renya looked around the roof and her eyes fell on one of the few intact ballistae.

“Fire at it from there,” she said to Leliana, pointing. “We need it weakened as quickly as possible.”

Leliana nodded and ran off. Nyviel hesitated, but at Renya’s look she followed the bard, sword out, ready to protect her as she stood defenseless behind the machinery.

“Finish this, Warden,” Wynne said, pulling out her staff and firing at the oncoming darkspawn.

With a look between them, Loghain and Renya charged. Elgar howled and ran ahead of them, knocking over darkspawn with the sheer force of his lunge.

_“Come… to… me…”_

“It’s calling the generals!” Renya bellowed, driving her sword into a darkspawn.

_“Defend… me… Kill… the… Wardensss…”_

The archdemon tried to take flight, but its injuried wing kept it on the stones. Instead, it breathed fire. Loghain stooped behind his shield, and Renya dove behind a pile of rubble, but a few horrible, bubbling screams announced that not everyone had gotten out of the way in time.

A surge in darkspawn told them that the archdemon’s call had been heeded. Powerful emissaries joined the fight, followed by dozens of hurlocks, genlocks, and shrieks. Loud crashes announced Leliana was firing the ballistae, and the archdemon screamed as the projectiles hit it. Renya stood back to back with Loghain as the darkspawn began to push them back.

“We need to get to the archdemon!” she cried, fighting furiously.

Her reply was a bellow followed by a crunch as Loghain bashed his shield into the darkspawn, trying to cut a path for them. Renya tried to follow, but the darkspawn were too many and they only wound up separated. She spun, trying to cut a path for herself. In the fighting, she had even lost track of Elgar, and hoped that the mabari still lived. Loghain yelled again, rapping his sword on his shield before diving back into the fight. Renya found herself getting shoved around the rooftop as she fought, so dense were the darkspawn.

And then she was alone. She looked over and saw the tattered wing of the archdemon. Its army was focued on the others, and it hadn’t thought anyone would be able to get through to it. The dragon turned and fixed its white eyes on Renya from its gnarled black head, high above her own.

 _“Come… to… me…”_ it sang in her head. _“I can make you strong. I can heal your pain…”_

“No!” Renya cried. She raised Duncan’s sword and ran at the dragon, slicing it underneath its neck. It roared again, and then she felt all attention on her, darkspawn and person alike.

The dragon’s head fell before her, its white eyes still staring into her green ones.

_“You do not want thiss… I can give you the happiness you seek, just lissten to my voice…”_

Renya’s hand quivered on the sword.

_“That’ss right. You have fought for sso long…”_

The singing was so beautiful…

_“You have losst so much…”_

It would be so easy to just let the sword accidentally fall from her hands. Her fingers loosened on the hilt.

_“I offer you a peace like you have never known. A peace in the music…”_

“Peace…” Renya murmured, her grip loosening further. It was all she ever wanted…

_“I need you… and people like you…”_

Renya blinked. She had heard those words before, but the voice had been deep and assuring, not tinny and hoarse. She blinked again and her thoughts cleared. She looked down at the dragon still staring at her, and then wrenched her gaze across the rooftop. The darkspawn had seen her hesitation. Some had begun charging at her, and others had resumed their attacks on her friends.

The sounds of the world dulled and echoed around her as her brain fought to process the overwhelming amount of information it was receiving. Loghain was running for her, sword raised and face determined, before he was knocked down by an emissary’s spell. Wynne was firing spells at the darkspawn charging toward the great dragon, grey hair stuck to her forehead and sweat dripping down her face. Nyviel was swinging her sword wildly as she and Leliana were attacked on all sides by darkspawn. Leliana had jumped on top of the ballistae, firing arrows into the darkspawn.

The bard looked up, shaking hair from her face, and her eyes met Renya’s. She looked sad, and time stood still. Renya could only hear the beating of her heart.

 _“You have losst so much…”_ a voice sang in her head. She looked down at the dragon, and then back at Leliana. The bard was still watching her, and Renya wasn’t sure if she imagined the little nod she saw.

“Ir abelas. I am so sorry, Lelia,” she whispered. Her hand tightened around the sword and she raised it, her mind filled with the images of Duncan’s deep voice, Connor’s innocent laugh, and Tamlen’s warm smile.

“Ma halam!” she cried, and plunged the sword into the archdemon’s head.

Pain split through her body and she tried to pull the sword out, but she couldn’t. Likewise, she wasn’t able to release the hilt. So she stood frozen, feeling as if her chest was splitting open. In a final moment of clarity, she sought Leliana again. Green eyes met blue for an instant before Renya’s mind shattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....


	151. A Single Moment

_“There is something of your father’s in that chest over there.” She nodded toward it and watched Renya closely as she opened the lid. She stared at the contents in the box before carefully reaching in and pulling out a delicate amulet._

_“He was given that when he was the Keeper’s first, before he became Keeper himself,” Flemeth said. “I knew him well. Your Keeper Marethari asked me to hold this for you until you were old enough to understand. Although what you were to understand, I am not sure.”_

She was sure she saw a little nod, even though the bard looked sad.

She understood now. It wasn’t for a cause, it wasn’t because she was told to. It wasn’t for some complex duty that she had been forced to undertake. No. It was for the same reason she had become a hunter so many years ago. It was simple.

You protect the people you love.

“Ir abelas, Lelia…”

***

“Ma halam!”

Nyviel heard the scream and looked up as the darkspawn started running. Renya was standing above the archdemon, her sword plunged into its skull, looking determined and sad all at the same time. The elf looked up, searching for Leliana, and an instant later a pulse of energy radiated out from the archdemon, sending them all flying backward into the warm blanket of unconsciousness.


	152. The Lover

Leliana opened her eyes and sat up. She briefly noticed that she was sitting on another part of the roof than she had been on moments before, but before she had a chance to truly process what that meant, she was on her feet and running toward the archdemon. She was so focused on her destination that she didn’t notice they were no longer surrounded by darkspawn.

“No…” she murmured, falling to her knees and skidding to a stop next to Renya. The elf lay motionless on the ground, the light gone from her green eyes as they stared, unseeing, at the sky.

“No…”

She picked the elf up and laid her head gently in her lap before tapping her cheek. “Renya… no, please… My love, wake up… Please, my love… _please_ …” She scooped the elf into her arms and began sobbing. Her ear was pressed into Renya’s neck, and with a nauseating twist in her stomach Leliana noted that the once-strong heartbeat was silent.

“Renya… please… no… no, Maker, _please,_ it’s not fair…”

“It is over,” Loghain said from somewhere above her. He sounded stunned, and almost confused. Leliana ignored him.

“No… _no_ …”

She felt hands on her, but she shook them off.

“Leliana…” came Wynne’s voice.

_“Don’t touch me!”_

“I’ll stay with her,” Leliana heard Nyviel say to the others before feet retreated. Elgar came over and sniffed his master, before sitting down next to Leliana and beginning to howl.

Leliana didn’t know how long she cried, clutching Renya and rocking her, but finally her sobs stilled and she sat quietly, feeling more tired now than she had during the whole battle for Denerim. She was about to get up when she looked down and saw one of Renya’s hands lying limply on the ground. Under the tear in her glove she could see the keeper’s ring still intact. Her throat tightened as she removed the ring and, after a moment’s hesitation, slipped it on her own finger. Her eyes fell onto her other gloved hand. She could see the bulge in the leather where the ring she had given Renya was covered. She shook her head. Renya had told her the Dalish bury their dead; Renya would be buried with that ring.

Gently, she put Renya back down onto the stones and, even more gently, closed her eyes. She kissed the tattooed forehead.

“I will always love you,” she murmured. She felt Nyviel’s hand on her shoulder again, but this time she didn’t pull away, instead letting the other elf guide her to her feet.

“Come,” the elf said gently. Her face was tear-streaked.

“Wait.” Leliana leaned down and yanked the sword from the archdemon’s head and placed it in Renya’s hand before crossing the elf’s hands over her body. She took a deep breath and rose again, finally forcing her gaze off of the Warden. Allowing Nyviel to take her arm, Leliana turned her back on her love and let herself be guided back down the stairs of the fort. Neither of them noticed the raven watching them from the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D:


	153. The Sister

Morrigan stepped out from her hiding place after Leliana and Nyviel had passed, the flash of light as she transformed seen by no one. She hurried over to Renya and knelt next to the elf, looking stunned, sad, and confused.

“I… am sorry, Renya,” Morrigan said, surprising herself when she used the elf’s name. “I… let me say only this,” she continued, forcing a businesslike tone while gently brushing a stray piece of hair from the elf’s forehead. “I knew nothing of friendship before we met. And I will always consider you as such.” Her voice cracked. “You have lived well, my friend. Gloriously.” Another crack on the last word, and Morrigan felt tears trickle down her cheeks.

She let them come; there was no one here to see. She bent over the elf and buried her face in Renya’s shoulder as she mourned, not caring that it was foolish, and for a moment not caring she had failed. Renya was dead, her sister was gone, and Morrigan held onto Renya’s still-warm hands as she cried. A sharp pain pierced her as she clutched at the elf, but her gasp of pain was swallowed by her sorrow.

“Goodbye, my sister,” she finally whispered, before transforming into a raven and flying away, cawing sadly.


	154. The Brother

Leliana stopped walking and fell to her knees, burying her face in her hands. Nyviel grabbed her shoulder bracingly. They had made it to the market of Denerim, but the others were much further ahead.

“Come on, Leliana. Let’s at least get back to the castle,” Nyviel said as bracingly as she could.

Leliana shook her head. “Go on,” came her muffled voice. “I want to be alone for awhile.”

Nyviel sighed and looked back at the tower where Renya and the archdemon still lay. “Don’t go back up there, Leliana,” she said quietly. “Not by yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Nyviel squeezed her shoulder and walked on, listening to Leliana’s sobs fade as she made her away across the destroyed square, Elgar walking dejectedly by her side.

***

“The archdemon!” Alistair exclaimed, seeing the small party approaching the castle and running toward them. “Who…?” He trailed off when he saw Loghain marching at the head of the procession with his jaw set.

“And… Renya?” he asked, searching out Wynne. He took a deep breath when he saw her expression.

“Right. I see,” he said in a low voice. He cleared his throat and looked at Loghain. “Victory is ours, then. We have many things to discuss, now that the threat is over…”

“That is all you have to say?” Zevran said angrily. “Renya is dead and…” He shook his head, his lips twitching downward. “You only say, _‘I see’_?” he managed to spit before turning away and swallowing the lump in his throat.

“She fulfilled her vow to the Grey Wardens,” Alistair said, not looking at anyone. “No one regrets her death more than I. It didn’t have to be,” he added, glaring at Loghain again.

“Don’t look at me as if I wouldn’t have taken the final blow, Alistair,” Loghain growled. “She-”

“It’s over now,” Wynne offered quietly. “Meditating on what could have been will get us nowhere.”

“Indeed,” Loghain agreed with a heavy sigh. He looked back at the king. “You have something you wish to discuss with me, Your Majesty? Then let us discuss.”

The party followed them dejectedly into the castle foyer. After Alistair and Loghain had disappeared down the hallway, the main doors creaked open and shut. All eyes snapped toward the sound as Nyviel walked in softly with Elgar padding next to her.

“Where is she?” Wynne asked.

“The market.”

“She didn’t go back up, did she?”

“I don’t know.”

Wynne nodded heavily, and the little room fell silent as each pursued their thoughts alone.


	155. Another Life

Boots slowly crunched through the dirt, coming closer. Leliana stilled, a horrible hope filling her heart. The person knelt next to her, and a warm hand was placed on her back.

“Leliana?” The voice was raspy, but unmistakeably female.

The bard turned, her heart jumping into her throat…

…only to crash back into her stomach when she saw the kind blue eyes of Elissa Cousland staring back at her.

“She was the best of us,” Elissa began. Leliana only nodded and turned away, willing herself to keep her face as neutral as possible.

“And her actions will be remembered and honored…”

Leliana nodded once to show she had heard.

“But come,” Elissa finally said, gently putting pressure under Leliana’s elbow to encourage her to rise. “You shouldn’t be by yourself.”

“I _am_ by myself. Whether I want to be or not,” Leliana muttered, her throat tightening further and tears burning in her eyes. She pulled her arm away. Elissa sighed.

In another life, Leliana might have been comforted by the efforts of the young noble, but here, kneeling in the dusty streets of Denerim, desperately trying not to picture Renya lying cold and alone on top of Fort Drakon, Leliana wanted nothing more than to push away all the well wishes that the other woman was still trying to comfort her with.

And so she did. Elissa, crouched as she was, almost lost her balance, but recovered before she fell.

“I’m sorry,” Elissa whispered, resisting the urge to wipe away Leliana’s tears, now beginning to fall freely again. “I’m so sorry.”

Leliana waited until the footsteps had faded completely to once again collapse into loud sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D:


	156. The Ally

Loghain stood with his arms crossed, listening to Alistair babble on about matters that were not so pressing as he made them out to be. The battle had just finished, and one small elf lay dead next to a great dragon after being asked to fight a battle she never should have been in to begin with.

Alistair continued his monologue about rebuilding Denerim and plans for the Wardens, and Loghain let the words wash over him. He suspected Alistair’s incessant talking was as much to assuage his own guilt as it was to cover for his inexperience – and perhaps insecurity – as a leader.

Maric hadn’t been like that. No. Maric had been… With an odd jolt, he realized that Maric had been like Renya. Or perhaps Renya had been like Maric. Nobodies, thrust to the front of a terrible war not because they thought they were the best option for the country, but because they were the only ones who kept standing, despite the odds. It was the reason both Maric and Renya inspired others: they may have fought because they had to, but their dedication to their cause was genuine and deep.

Loghain sighed. He had followed Renya like he had followed Maric – eventually. He was drawn to her energy, and her honest way of talking. And in his heart of hearts, he respected her quiet adherence to duty, never asking for anything in return, but always seeming to give others the benefit of the doubt. It was the reason the Crow he had sent to kill her had followed her to the march on Denerim, and why he – now branded a traitor – still lived, and why he had been given an opportunity to serve his country once again.

He shook his head slightly.

Some things are worth trying to preserve.

Fortitue like Maric’s.

Hope like the Wardens’.

A life like Renya’s.

But just because something deserves to be saved, it does not mean it always can be.

Loghain sighed deeply and began following Alistair out of the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day? I must really be feeling like a terrible person...


	157. One Choice

Leliana knelt, her body aching, sobs racking her body as she thought of the past half hour. No, she corrected herself. It was the span of one moment that kept repeating in her mind: the moment their eyes had met and Leliana had watched in horror as the light faded from them forever. Maker, it wasn’t fair.

“You have abandoned me,” she murmured. “I followed You, and You have abandoned me. I walked where You led me… why did You lead me here?” She looked up into the sky in despair. “I trusted You! I _trusted_ You!” she yelled, her hands balled into fists. “I _hate_ You! Do You hear me? I _hate_ You! _I hate You!_ ” She collapsed into her hands again. “I hate You…” she murmured, her words turning into soft sobs.

Eventually, all was silent again. The world was still and quiet, shocked at what had just come to pass, quietly waiting for permission for things to be as they were before, hoping against hope that was possible after so much loss.

For Leliana, she knew that would not be possible.

Footsteps came up behind her again. A bubble of temper rose in her chest.

“Go away,” she growled.

The footsteps stopped but didn’t retreat.

“I told you to leave me alone,” Leliana said with forced calm, picking her face up out of her hands but not turning around.

She heard someone kneel next to her and a strong arm was placed around her. She stiffened and started to pull away as she was engulfed in the smell of blood and sweat. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her, though. She thought a waft of pine floated by, too.

“Leliana?”

The bard slowly turned her head and looked into a tired, bloody, but very much alive face. She reached out a hand and touched the blood-covered cheek. It was warm.

“Are you real?” she asked, her voice high.

Renya smiled and pressed her face into Leliana’s hand. A moment later the bard had thrown her arms around her neck and was hugging her tightly.

“I will be thankful to Morrigan all my days,” she whispered, her throat tight. Renya hugged her back.

“It is over, Lelia,” she said. “We did it. We ended the Blight.”

“You did it, you mean,” Leliana said, pressing a kiss onto Renya’s lips. “Wonderful, amazing _you._ ”

Renya laughed and stood, helping Leliana to her feet. “Let us go spread the good news, then,” she said, wrapping her arm around the bard’s waist.

“I… took your ring,” Leliana said as they walked.

Renya smiled. “I know. Thank you,” she replied softly.

“But… but now I’m going to give it back to you,” Leliana finished, not knowing what else to say. She stopped and pulled the ring off her finger and slipped it onto Renya’s before the elf could protest. Renya looked at it with a smile before tucking it under her glove.

“Ma serannas, vhenan,” she murmured, kissing her. “Thank you.”

***

The mood was somber in the castle. Nyviel felt guilty for having left Leliana behind, but the bard had wanted time to herself, and the elf only felt it was right to honor her request. Wynne was staring at the marble floors, unblinking, while Zevran was leaning against a pillar with his face in his hands, shaking his head. Even Elgar looked sad as he sat leaned against Nyviel, letting the other elf stroke his head absentmindedly. The great doors creaked open and heads snapped up as Leliana walked in. Behind to her was –

“Renya?” Nyviel said in shock, rising from where she was sitting.

“Dear Maker,” Wynne murmured, a smile spreading on her face. “You’re alive?”

Elgar barked and lunged at Renya, jumping around her and Leliana and yipping excitedly.

Zevran was at her side in an instant. “It is good to see you, my friend!” he cried happily, pumping her arm up and down in the most enthusiastic handshake she had ever experienced, before pulling her into a crushing hug. He released her with a laugh. “I was afraid you had gotten lost somewhere between the tower and here.”

“Yes, well, I had to stop for directions a few times,” Renya said with a grin of her own. Nyviel crashed into her and they stumbled into the stone wall, the younger elf’s arms tight around Renya. A few tears leaked out of her eyes, a smile splitting her features.

“You’re back,” she murmured, giving Renya a squeeze. “You’re back…” She pulled away a little, still grinning, still with tears on her cheeks. “Oghren and Sten are being mended,” she added, as if trying to change the subject. “But I’m sure Alistair will want to see you!”

“I doubt that,” Renya mumbled darkly, noticing the uncomfortable looks on the others’ faces.

But too late, the doors to the throne room opened and Alistair came out, speaking seriously, albeit curtly, to Loghain.

“We will need to figure out how to transport the body with as little risk of touching the blood as possible,” Alistair was saying. “And…” He trailed off when he saw Renya, looking at him with an unreadable expression on her face. “Renya?”

“Yes,” she said. The both noticed the lack of her usual lethallin.

“You’re alive?” he asked incredulously. “How? …How is this possible?”

Renya noticed Loghain looking anywhere but at her. She shrugged, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Just lucky, I suppose.”

“Yes, luck,” Alistair said dryly. “You always have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

Leliana gave her hand a gentle squeeze and so she didn’t respond.

“The archdemon is dead,” she commented instead. “The Blight is ended.”

“Yes, well,” Alistair said with a short nod. “That’s good, at least. I’m sure you’re tired,” he added, taking in the whole party with his eyes. “One of the servants will show you up to your rooms. We have many things we need to discuss, but not tonight.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Renya said, noting how Alistair’s glare increased at the use of the title. Luckily a servant arrived and was able to hurry them to their rooms before either of them could say anything else.

***

Renya changed out of her armor and, after washing the remains of darkspawn blood off of her, climbed into bed and lay down with her head on Leliana’s chest. She smiled contentedly as Leliana began to stroke her hair.

“I’m so proud of you, my love,” Leliana said. “And infinitely glad you were returned to me.” She sighed happily. “And now we can begin our adventure together, no? Travel around Ferelden? I was thinking to go to the coast, and then maybe look for your clan. And then,” she chatted in her light voice. “M-maybe a permanent home? What do you think? Here in Denerim? No, maybe someplace quieter, with more trees…” She looked down at the elf. “What do you think, my love? These plans are hardly mine alone.”

Her smile widened as she listened to Renya’s slow, heavy breathing. The elf had fallen asleep almost immediately. She lowered the lamp.

“Goodnight, my love,” she whispered. “See you in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA-DA!!! :D :D :D
> 
> Yeah, I'm not sure this is going to make people more angry at me or not, but you can't say I've never had this story well in hand! ;)
> 
> Oh, and virtual cookies to anyone who can find the hints that the Dark Ritual happened...
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	158. A Hint and a Loose End

She woke up in silence. The room was very dark, and when Leliana reached over to the side of the bed, it was empty and the sheets were cold. Shivering, she got up and looked out the open window. Dread rose in her and she wondered why Renya would sneak out of the castle.

_Or maybe,_ she thought wildly. _Renya didn’t really survive, and returned long enough simply to say goodbye. She never affirmed she was real in the marketplace…_

Leliana shook her head. No, this was not one of her stories. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for Renya’s disappearance.

Throwing a dressing gown over herself, she walked down the hallway toward where she saw a lone light in one of the rooms. She knocked on the doorframe, and blue glints looked up at her, reflecting the light of the single candle burning.

“Leliana?” Nyviel asked with surprise, rising from the desk.

“She’s gone.”

Nyviel put down the quill she was holding and shook her head.

“I told her not to go tonight,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. She met Leliana’s gaze. “She didn’t tell you where she was going?”

“No, I didn’t,” Renya said in the doorway. A burlap sack was on her back, and it clinked slightly when she moved. She ignored the curious stares of both women and handed something to Nyviel.

“It is amazing how they ensured the vault would survive any disaster,” she commented.

Nyvel took the little vial and swirled it in front of her eyes. The red liquid shone in the light of the fire, and an engraving of “Nyviel Rehendruil” glinted beneath the stopper. She took a deep breath and, before either Renya or Leliana could react, threw the vial into the fire, smashing it.

“I’m going to live with the Dalish,” she said, staring at the flames. She looked over at Leliana. “I’ve seen what it’s like to not live under Chantry rule and I’m not going back. I’ve finally found a place I belong.”

Leliana nodded. “They will be lucky to have you.”

Nyviel cracked a smile. A soft clink caught her attention as Renya shifted her shoulders. “But we can talk more about this later,” she said, catching Renya’s serious look. “Goodnight.” She ushered them out of her room, but passed something to Renya before shutting the door.

“Ma serannas,” she whispered to the older elf.

“What’s in the bag?” Leliana asked once they were back in the room. Renya shook her head and opened the chest that Eamon had given her. With her back still to Leliana, she carefully removed the items and began arranging them, some thumping as they were placed inside, others clinking like glass.

“I will tell you when we live someplace of our own,” she murmured. She locked the chest and placed the item Nyviel had given her in the keyhole. The chest glowed slightly as it absorbed the protection of the ward. She rose. “I do not want anyone here knowing. Not now.”

Leliana teetered, but eventually nodded in defeat. They were developing a balance of what Grey Warden information Renya would divulge to her, and what secrets she kept. She supposed she would have to come to terms with the fact that she would never know everything about Renya’s life in the Order. But it was no matter. The fact that Renya would have a life was enough.

“Then let us go back to bed, my love,” Leliana said, turning down the covers. “The sheets have become quite cold.”

Renya was beside her in an instant, pulling her into a hug.

“Let me fix that…” she said before leaning in to kiss Leliana.

***

Pounding on the door startled them both awake the next day. Renya yelled and was on her feet in a flash, hand at her waist as she groped for a sword that wasn’t there.

“Really,” Leliana tisked with a scowl at the door. She glanced at Renya, who was rubbing her vallaslin and grumbling, before going to the door and opening it just enough to see who was outside. It was Alistair.

“Good morning, Leliana,” he said crisply. “I need to speak with Renya as soon as she’s ready.”

“I am right here,” Renya said grumpily, coming over to the door. “What is it?”

“In the war room,” Alistair amended. “One of the servants will show you where it is.” And he disappeared.

Renya shook her head and grabbed her Dalish robes. She caught Leliana’s look.

“What?”

“Perhaps your dress uniform?” she offered with a meaningful glance.

Renya sighed but nodded, and began pulling on her uniform, waiting until Leliana had turned to grab Renya’s pants before quickly changing her tunic. Leliana helped adjust the small shoulderplate as Renya fussed with her glove and tugged on the tails of her jacket. She finished doing up the silver buttons and fastened her belt over it. She put her swords in the belt and checked herself in the mirror. If it weren’t for the dark circles under her eyes, she would have looked quite grand.

Leliana seemed to guess her thoughts. “You look wonderful, my love,” she said, wrapping her arms around Renya and resting her head on her shoulder from behind. She let go. “Now go. I’m sure whatever Alistair needs is important, for him to have woken us up this way.”

Renya convinced Leliana to go with her, and the elf smiled as Leliana walked down the hall in a simple skirt and blouse, looking quite lovely in her opinion. Unfortunately she was turned away at the door of the war room.

“I’m sorry,” Alistair said softly. He looked uncomfortable. “Technically you’re just a Chantry sister, or – maybe worse – an Orlesian bard.”

“I understand, Alistair,” Leliana said. She gave Renya’s hand a squeeze. “You’ll be fine, my love.”

It was less than fine. Sitting around the table was Alistair, Loghain, Eamon, and Elissa. They rose as Renya walked in. The elf gulped. She was not in any mood to deal with Alistair in the same room as Loghain. Plus, if they all were assembled, something important was going to happen, and she was not qualified to discuss matters of human government. She had already killed the archdemon, hadn’t she? What more could they possibly want from her?

“It’s good to see you well, Warden,” Eamon said with a smile, indicating she should sit. She did, and the rest followed her.

“So we must discuss the disposal of the archdemon’s body,” Alistair said without preamble. “And some other pressing matters.”

He looked at Renya expectantly, and Renya suppressed an ironic smile that Alistair, now king, would still defer to her. Well, that would need to change. Renya was not going to live in the castle forever. But she shrugged.

“We have burned the corpses of many darkspawn,” she said. “I assume this will be no different. It already lays on stones, so we can build a fire around it.”

“And the others?”

“Throw them in a pit and set them ablaze,” Loghain said, irritated and looking similarly exhausted. “Renya, that walking statue of hers, and I will see it done, if you fear the taint spreading to others. Is this all we are to discuss? The reason you pulled us here so early?”

“No,” Alistair said, crossing his arms. “There is also the matter of Gwaren.”

“Oh,” Loghain said, sinking. “Right. It could be restored to Anora,” he said hopefully. But Alistair laughed.

“So she can build an army against me in the south? I think not.”

“Who should it go to, Loghain?” Renya asked.

“What?” Alistair demanded, but Renya shot him a look and he fell silent, the two momentarily falling back into old patterns.

Loghain looked thoughtful. “Well, since I suppose it will not simply fall back under my care,” he said, almost sadly. “There is a young noble named Emerick in the White River Bannorn. They call him Emerick the Honest. He’s the younger brother of the bann. He’s a good man.”

“I will invite this Emerick to meet us in the coming weeks, then,” Alistair said, looking relieved when he saw Eamon nod. “And we must discuss what you will tell the Grey Wardens. You shouldn’t have survived,” he added, watching Renya carefully.

Renya hesitated for a moment, wishing Leliana was here. She would know what to say. Surprisingly, it was Loghain who intervened.

“I wasn’t aware the King of Ferelden would concern himself with Grey Warden matters,” he said flatly. “I was under the impression that you left the Order upon my admission to it. Your Majesty,” he added with just a hint of emphasis.

Alistair glared at him. Eamon cleared his throat.

“Really, Alistair, you sound like you aren’t relieved that Renya survived. After all you two have been through…”

The king sighed. “You’re right. There has been enough death. And…” He noded at Renya. “I’m glad you survived, Renya.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “Lethallin,” she added after a brief hesitation that they both noticed.

Alistair nodded heavily. “So… you will… do what you think is best with the Wardens,” he concluded, sounding sad. Renya wondered if she had made the right choice to spare Loghain and lose Alistair in the process. She also wondered if Alistair was regretting his rash decision to abandon the Order.

But Alistar had apparently moved on for the moment, glancing at Elissa, and then back at Eamon.

“There is also the matter of my coronation and marriage.”

“I notice you haven’t yet asked me if I would marry you, my lord,” Elissa said.

Loghain rose. “I don’t think you need Grey Wardens for this, do you? We have much to do. As I recall, that dragon was quite large.”

Renya rose slowly; she wanted to stay and watch how this unfolded, but supposed she would find out one way or another in the coming days. Eamon nodded at them heavily as the two nobles began to argue.

Loghain and Renya walked down the stairs silently. Eventually they found Shale and, after changing into more appropriate armor and telling Wynne where they were going, they trudged off, back into the city.

“Were you really going to kill Anora?” Renya asked after they had been piling and burning darkspawn bodies for the better part of an hour. Loghain paused, and then threw the genlock he was holding onto a pile with a grunt.

“Anora always did have a flair for the dramatic,” he said, wiping his brow. “She could have been a bard.”

“Why would she invent such a story?”

Loghain’s face darkened. “I didn’t say that.” He sighed. “Howe suggested the possibility. I rejected it immediately, of course. Undoubtedly, that discussion was the inspiration for her story. Anora,” he added, picking up a hurlock under its arms while Renya grabbed its legs. “Is a politician at heart. If there’s one thing she knows, it’s how to move people.”

They threw the hurlock onto the pile and set about lighting a fire.

“So I broke in to a royal castle and was captured and tortured for _nothing?_ ”

Loghain wiped his hands together. “Well, I’m sure having you come to her rescue gave Anora no small amount of pleasure. As for Fort Drakon… I think that _did_ bother her. She certainly didn’t want you hurt. And… well… you very nearly didn’t support her after that, did you?”

Renya stayed silent, suddenly glad Alistair decided to not marry her. “What was she like as a child?” she asked in disbelief.

“So far as anyone could tell,” Loghain said with a chuckle as they moved on to the next part of the city. “She was the undisputed monarch of the whole world. She’d fall, scrape her knees, and command them to stop stinging. It may have even worked, too.”

“I cannot imagine her with scraped knees.”

“She bleeds just like anyone.” He pointed at another cluster of dead darkspawn and they walked toward it. “Or are you surprised that my daughter ever fell down?” The tall man chuckled again. “She was a terror, but it’s the peculiar joy of parents to be terrorized by their children.” He caught Renya looking at him. “If you’re looking for any particular insight into my daughter’s character, I may not be the best source. I’m hardly impartial.”

“You know her better than anyone else,” Renya said with a small shrug before heaving a genlock up.

Loghain suddenly looked sad. “You think so? I’m not so certain of that, myself,” he replied quietly.

Renya nodded, remembering how Anora had promised to betray her father in order to gain support for her throne, which she had deemed “for the good of the country.” She listened as Loghain continued talking about his daughter, flowing seamlessly from her devotion to her mother to her close friendship with Cailan, even laughing when the older man told a story about how she and Cailan had destroyed the wine cellar of the castle, claiming they had been fighting ogres. Eventually they came to Fort Drakon, and both fell silent. Without another word, they pushed the doors open and walked inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm..
> 
>  
> 
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	159. Two Heroes

The dragon still lay twisted, its white eyes cloudy and its body still. Loghain noticed but didn’t comment on the slices into its front legs where bones looked like they had been ripped out, or the peculiar angle of part of its neck, as if someone had moved it to let out some of its blood.

Shale clomped up behind them and dumped some wood on the ground. “There is more over there,” she said, pointing. “I suggest we begin gathering. This foul creature will take the better part of the day to burn, I imagine.”

They worked silently for a long time. Renya rubbed her chest, feeling the smooth metal of her armor under her fingertips. She supposed eventually it would stop hurting.

“You didn’t command me to take the final blow,” Loghain commented some time later. He positioned some logs under the creature’s heavy arms. “You didn’t command me to do anything to help you, in fact.”

“I didn’t,” Renya agreed with a shrug, panting as she carried wood over to the beast’s hindquarters.

“Why not?”

Renya walked back around the dragon and stared at Loghain, her eyebrows raised. “Would you have preferred if I did?”

“Even something to save your own life, but you were silent…”

They stood staring at each other for a long time. Loghain cleared his throat and brought over some more wood.

“Weisshaupt _is_ going to ask questions, you know,” he said. He looked at her. “I intend to keep my mouth shut on the matter.”

Renya held his gaze. “Thank you,” she said with meaning. He grunted and returned to his work.

“Will you look for her?” he asked, now arranging wood as high up on the dragon’s body as he could reach.

“Yes.”

“Good. Tell her I say hello.”

***

They returned later that evening, the dragon nothing now but ash in the wind. Renya changed into her Dalish armor and went out again, watching as the people returned to their shops and homes, dragging off rubble and beginning the slow process of rebuilding. She caught Leliana talking to the elf named Sketch and walked over.

“So where will you go?” Sketch was saying. “Back to Orlais?”

“No,” Leliana replied, seeing Renya and smiling. “My life is here now. I think I may travel, actually.”

“That’s great,” Sketch said. He nodded at Renya before turning back to Leliana. “I’ve been in the Free Marches these past few years. Making a good living, too, flying under the gaze of the templar commander there. If you’re ever in the area,” he added, rising with a glance at the setting sun. “Look me up.”

“I will. And Sketch?” Leliana pulled him into a hug. “It is _so_ good to see you!”

The elf smiled back crookedly. “And you, Leliana.”

“Sketch and I have been catching up,” Leliana said in response to Renya’s unasked question after the other elf had taken his leave. “I heard you went to the fort?”

“Yes. It is gone. The dragon is gone. And Riordan’s funeral is tomorrow morning. And… and then…” She sighed. “I do not know what to do anymore. This whole year I have focused only on defeating the Blight. And it is over.”

“Let us enjoy this good moment, then, my love,” Leliana said, taking her hand. “We have had enough terrible ones in the past year. We should not stain the happiness we have now.”

***

Three uneventful weeks passed. Riordan’s funeral was tragic, moreso because the Warden had fallen quite a distance. He was laid out with a shroud covering him before they lit the funeral pyre. Letters from Weisshaupt arrived, congratulating Renya and naming her Commander of the Grey in Ferelden – complete with a new dress uniform, cape, and Silver Wings of Valor medal – and then quickly asking how she had survived slaying the archdemon.

Remembering Riordan’s description of the conservative Wardens in the Anderfels, Renya wrote a vague response – with a great deal of help from Leliana – hoping to quell their questions and not outright lie. Although technically it was true what she said: she did not know nor could explain what had happened to her. After all, she reasoned, she had not agreed to or been part of any strange ritual, and certainly did not understand how such a ritual would work. Leliana strongly suggested she keep that part to herself.

“Don’t even introduce the idea to them,” she had advised. “You don’t want to explain away accusations they haven’t even thought of.”

Then, as it turned out, with the return of Elissa’s brother, Fergus, Highever was no longer in need of a teryn, and eventually Elissa tentatively agreed to marry Alistair, but only after a year of courtship. If Alistair had been disappointed, he didn’t show it. If Elissa had any strong feelings about it, she had only shown them through the sad glances she threw at Leliana over the evening meals that no one else seemed to notice.

The castle was buzzing the day before Alistair’s coronation. After getting pecked at all day, Renya had retreated to her room and barred the door. She smiled when she heard someone approach and Sten’s voice told them to leave. The person’s protests echoed down the hall, and Renya pictured the loyal qunari taking them by the arm and pulling them away from the Warden’s room.

“Someplace quiet,” Renya said to Leliana, shaking her head. “We will go someplace –”

She fell silent at a knock at the door. Another voice rang down the hallway.

“The Warden-Commander is resting,” Elissa said. “I would be happy to help you if you need something…”

Leliana stood up and pulled the elf into her arms, smiling as Renya relaxed. “The coronation is tomorrow,” she said soothingly. “Everyone is excited.”

“One of the servants asked if I would be wearing something presentable tomorrow,” Renya grumbled. “Or if I would be covering up my vallaslin.”

Leliana sighed. Alistair was going to have a long, uphill battle against the bigotry against the elves. Her glance fell onto the Warden’s new dress uniform, hanging from one of the armor racks.

“You were just named Commander of the Grey, my love. They just want you to look…”

“The part?” Renya said into Leliana’s neck. She pulled away. “Like I said, make me taller.”

Leliana laughed. She became quiet as she stroked Renya’s ear gently. Renya closed her eyes with a sigh and small smile tugging on her lips. She dragged her hands down to Leliana’s waist and the bard chuckled, pressing into the elf.

“I know a way we could ease your tension,” she said playfully, kissing Renya’s ear and beginning to fiddle with the ties of Renya’s tunic.

“Lelia…”

“Hush.” She kissed Renya to silence her. Soft fingers whispered along Renya’s skin as the ties loosened.

“Lelia,” Renya protested halfheartedly again as Leliana tugged on the material, untucking it from Renya’s trousers. “Wait…”

Leliana pulled back. “What is it?”

“I… it is…” Renya sighed. They hadn’t lain together since before the final battle, Renya often complaining of being sore, or otherwise falling asleep in exhaustion from the labor she and Loghain had been asked to do in the aftermath of the fight. She grabbed her tunic and pulled it off. Leliana gasped. She reached out toward the white scar that traced down Renya’s chest and then checked herself.

“It is alright,” Renya said with a sad smile. “It does not hurt too badly anymore.” Her skin jumped a little as Leliana’s fingers dragged along the long, curved line that traced from underneath her collarbone to right above where her ribs ended, cutting diagonally across where her heart was.

“I have a matching one on my back,” she murmured.

Leliana nodded distractedly, fingers still tracing over the scar. Her eyes met Renya’s.

“You are my Warden,” she said gently, now caressing the elf’s cheek. “And our hero. No amount of scars or heartache will change that, my love.”

“I love you,” Renya said with a smile, pulling Leliana toward her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D
> 
> ...so all that just happened. I can't believe it's almost coronation time!
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	160. A Short Moment

Leliana held on to Renya contentedly, listening to the elf’s strong heartbeat through her back as Renya pulled on the trousers that went with her Warden uniform. She pulled back and kissed the white line that traced through the dotted scars of the elf’s back, and then leaned over to kiss the elf’s ear as she pulled on her socks and boots. The elf sat up, covering Leliana’s hands with her own.

“I need to stand up now, Lelia,” she said gently. “I am out of clothing I can put on while you are holding me.” She accepted another squeeze before Leliana released her. She resumed dressing, tucking her tunic in to her trousers before buttoning on the blue and white jacket with the armor on the left arm. She pulled on the fingertipless glove and grabbed her vir tanadahl ring off the nightstand, slipping it on her other hand. She turned and saw Leliana still watching her from the bed.

“Creators,” she murmured. “But you are beautiful…” She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Leliana toward her, rubbing their cheeks together gently. A knock on the door caused Leliana to pull the sheets up around her.

“Warden-Commander?” came a servant’s voice from the hallway. “Your presence is requested in the main hall. The coronation will be commencing within the half-hour.”

Renya sighed and rose. “I am on my way.”

“Yes, messere.”

“Go on, my love,” Leliana said. “I will be there soon.”

“You are coming with me,” Renya said stubbornly, crossing her arms. “I have been pulled away from you enough.”

Leliana shook her head, but rose from the bed anyway.

“I am a sister of the Chantry, and an Orlesian bard…” she said, pulling on her smallclothes, looking away. She grabbed the red skirt Nyviel had given her and stepped into it. “…and the fatherless daughter of a servant.”

Leliana pulled on her golden blouse and did up all the laces, tucking it in carefully and adjusting it in the mirror.

“What am I, next to the Warden-Commander and Hero of Ferelden?” she finished, still not looking at Renya. The elf took her hand and gently spun her so they were facing each other again.

“Everything,” she answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww.... I figured they deserved one more moment to themselves before the very end <3
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	161. The Coronation

Renya entered the great hall, escorting Leliana on her arm. A few whispers followed them, but Renya ignored them as she was led by a groom to the front of the hall and seated. After demanding Leliana be seated next to her, the man finally nodded and went off to fetch another chair. One by one their friends filed in, each being seated in the front of the hall.

“This is a great honor for a coronation,” Leliana explained when the elf pointed at all the humans standing in the hall who had not been given chairs.

“I can’t believe Alistair is going to be king,” Nyviel remarked from behind Renya, tugging her Dalish mage’s robes around herself.

“Yes, our handsome Warden has done well for himself,” Zevran commented, dressed in his red and gold suit and looking around at the crowds warily.

A trumpet sounded and Wynne and Leliana stood, the rest of the group following their lead. Renya smiled when she saw Sten standing in a corner, his arms crossed. Next to him was Oghren, who was holding a tankard of beer already, and Shale, watching the proceedings with a bored interest.

“Elgar, mana,” Renya hissed when the mabari barked happily as Alistair walked past in his new robes, the royal train flowing behind him in a sea of red velvet.

What followed was an incredibly boring hour as a Chantry mother stood over Alistair and sang parts of the Chant of Light, followed by a prayer, followed by more chanting, and another prayer. But, Renya admitted, Alistair looked much more solemn than she had ever seen him, and when he knelt to have the crown placed on his head, she thought he looked very majestic, indeed.

“All hail, Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden!” the Mother cried as Alistair stood.

“Hail!” everyone called back before sinking into bows.

Renya looked around; her companions had all bowed, with the exception of Sten, Shale, and Oghren, still hidden in the shadows. But her hesitation caught the attention of one of the guards.

“Bow to your king!” he demanded, striding over, but Alistair stopped him.

“No. She doesn't bow to me,” he said clearly. “She does not bow to anyone. Here, or anywhere.” He beckoned to her, and she walked up the steps toward the throne and stood before him.

“Turn and face the country you saved,” he whispered to her. She arched an eyebrow at him but did as he asked.

“My friends,” he said, louder this time. “We are gathered to celebrate those responsible for our victory. Of those who stood against the darkspawn siege of Denerim, there are many who gave their strength and their lives, but one in particular deserves commendation. The one who led the final charge against the archdemon remains with us still, as inspiration to all she saved that day.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the Hero of Ferelden, Renya Mahariel, the first Grey Warden to defeat the Blight since Garahel five ages ago.”

Cheers erupted from the crowd, and Renya smiled as she watched the hall full of humans applaud the Dalish elf as Alistair pinned a gold Ferelden medal of service onto her uniform. She heard Zevran whistle as Leliana clapped above her head. Nyviel hopped up and down on her toes, cheering, and even Sten clapped along with the rest, a puzzled look on his face.

“Renya, my… my friend,” he said gravely, holding her gaze. “I’m not sure how you could have aided Ferelden more. It seems only proper that I return the favor. Is there any boon you ask of Ferelden’s king? If it is in my power, I will grant it.”

She felt eyes on her, and glanced out over the crowd. An elf, far in the back, caught Renya’s attention, and from here she could just make out that the elf had vallaslin. A smile tugged on the corners of her lips.

“I wish for the elves to be given their own lands, where they may live peacefully,” she said clearly, studying for Alistair’s reaction. His face split into a grin.

“I think we can arrange that.” He turned to the gathered crowd. “Let it be known that the lands south of Lothering, including Ostegar, will now be a homeland to the elves. They will live there peacefully under the crown’s protection. It isn’t the Dales,” he added in his normal voice, turning back to Renya. “But I hope it is a beginning to a mending of relationships between our races.”

“Thank you, lethallin.”

“Let it also be known,” Alistair said, addressing the hall again. “That the arling of Amaranthine, once the land of Arl Howe, is now granted to the Grey Wardens. There, they can rebuild, following the example of those who went before them.”

A shocked murmur went through the crowd, but it eventually gave way to clapping. Renya watched as Leliana scanned the crowds, no doubt trying to discern who supported the decision the least.

“And what of your plans?” Alistair asked Renya as the crowd mumbled itself into silence and the Chantry Mother gave a final blessing over the crowd. “Will you stay with the Grey Wardens?”

Renya sighed. “I plan to travel for a time,” she said honestly.

Alistair laughed. “After what you’ve done, I don’t think anyone is in a position to stop you!” He sobered. “I hope your travels bring you back here soon.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger.

“And, um, there is a group of Fereldens outside waiting to meet their hero. I would suggest you make at least a _brief_ appearance before they storm the gate.” He chuckled. “Just tell the guard at the door when you’re ready.”

Renya nodded, aware of the crowd dispersing. She walked numbly down the stairs as Alistair was grabbed by Teagan. She walked down into the crowd, but her head snapped up at a familiar voice.

“Da’len! Renya!”

Renya’s eyes lit up as the Dalish elf she had seen in the back ran up to her. She threw her arms around her.

“Mamae!” she cried as she buried her face in Ashalle’s shoulder, tears leaking out of her eyes. “Mamae…” she murmured again, pulling her mother close.

“I am so proud of you, da’len,” Ashalle said, stroking Renya’s hair. “And this thing you have done… a real homeland! I can hardly wait to build a house! Will you come home with me? Sathrian’s clan would welcome us, I know.”

Renya pulled away, blinking back tears. There would be time later to tell Ashalle of all their adventures. But…

“Will the Sabrae come back?” she asked, noticing Leliana scooting closer but still keeping a healthy distance between them. Her heart sank when Ashalle shook her head.

“Marethari is proud of what you have done, da’len, but… no, they are staying in the Free Marches. But you are here, and…” She noticed Renya’s glance at Leliana and sighed. “Even if you do not come home with me, anywhere in Ferelden is closer to you than Sundermount.” She turned to Leliana and smiled politely. “But who is your friend?”

“This is Leliana, Mamae,” she said, looping her arm around the bard with a slight hesitation. “She has traveled with us since soon after I left the clan. She is a friend to the elves.” Ashalle nodded heavily as she glanced between them.

“A human? But maybe it is better this way…” she murmured to herself with a nod. “Aneth ara, Leliana, friend of the elves.” She crossed her arms. “I hope you do not take what my daughter has given up for granted,” she said with meaning.

“No, ma’am,” Leliana said awkwardly. “I…”

But Ashalle looked for no other assurances. “That I have you back, however briefly, is enough,” she said, pulling Renya into a hug again. She caught sight of Renya’s hunting knife and smiled. “You are an honor to the Dalish, da’len,” she said quietly, cupping Renya’s cheek as Renya smiled proudly. “But you have others to speak with. And I heard you are going to travel? I hope you will come and visit me.”

“Yes, Mamae.”

“And I see there is another Dalish here. I will let you greet the humans.” She smiled at Renya with pride and stroked her cheek. “Look at you. Look how the humans respect you.” She took in the room with a sweep of her arm. “Look at all the good you have done for all of us, da’len.” With a final kiss to Renya’s forehead, Ashalle melted back into the crowds and sought out Nyviel.

“Go, my love,” Leliana said, pecking Renya on the cheek. “Your adoring fans await you.”

Renya looked around and saw Wynne talking animatedly to Irving, Zevran beside her and laughing at something she was saying. Shianni and Kallian had likewise sought out Nyviel and Ashalle. She wanted to talk to them all, now that it was over.

‘There will be time later, my love,” Leliana murmured. “You must go out and take your bow.”

“You should be taking a bow with me.”

“No, no. I prefer to stay here,” Leliana said with a laugh. “You did the hard work. I just shot some arrows.” She walked Renya through the hall.

“Kadan.”

Renya looked up into Sten’s face. He was looking down at her curiously.

“I will not comment on the strangeness of honoring someone still alive,” he said slowly. “But I want to tell you that I have the answer to my question and have fulfilled my promise to assist you in defeating the Blight.”

“You have, Sten. Thank you.”

“Do you wish to know the answer to the question?” he asked. “You were curious about me enough when we first met.”

“Sure, Sten.”

“One.”

Renya arched an eyebrow at him. “One what?”

Sten leaned down close to her ear. “The answer to Arishok’s question. Are there any honorable men in all of Ferelden?” He rose. “Thank you, Kadan. When the qunari inevitably invade, I will not look for you on the battlefield.”

“What?” Renya shook her head. “Okay. Ma serannas, Sten. I appreciate that.” She squinted up at him. “Is there anything about Ferelden you like?”

“Yes,” he said with a frown. “They are… small. Crunchy. Like bread, only sweeter.”

“Cookies?” Leliana asked with glee.

“Yes, cookies. We do not have these in Seheron. They are very good. I will miss eating them.”

Renya smiled. “I hope we meet again, Sten.”

He put a heavy hand on her shoulder. “I hope we do not, Kadan,” he said with meaning. Renya nodded slowly, understanding what he meant. She took a deep breath as he removed his hand and melted into the crowds and out a side door. Glancing back at the rest of her companions, finally relaxed and happy, she took a step to the door.

“So, this story you are going to write about me,” Renya said, hesitating. She turned to Leliana. “Does the hero get the girl in the end?”

Leliana laughed musically, making Renya smile. She pulled the elf close.

“Yes,” she said, leaning forward and kissing Renya. “Yes, my love,” she murmured, kissing her again. “She most certainly does.”

A few “aw”s filled the room. Leliana pulled away, grinning. Her cheeks were a little flushed. “Now go on, Hero. I’ll be here when you get back.” She took a step backward and watched as Renya walked toward the door.

“All set, messere?” the guard asked smartly. Renya glanced over her shoulder and took in the full hall one more time. Her eyes met Leliana’s briefly before she turned around.

“Yes,” she said, standing up a little straighter. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw... yay!
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


	162. Epilogue; Dragon 9:31-9:32

They sat beneath the trees of the Brecilian forest, contentedly watching the sun set behind the hills. The clearing Renya had dreamed about for years was now a good day’s walking behind them; only the creators knew how long they had stayed there, reveling in the softness of the halla grass and the warmth of their love.

_“And now it is official?” Leliana had asked playfully one day, tickling Renya’s nose with a daisy she had picked._

_Renya had chuckled, watching the bard hovering over her. “Yes. Very official. We are Dalish-frolicking levels of official now.”_

_Leliana laughed and kissed her. “Good. If you still aren’t sure, I could always try and ease your mind a little more.”_

_Renya grinned and pulled Leliana toward her._

Their adventure to Lanaya’s clan had been pleasantly uneventful. Nyviel had met them there, and the keeper had suggested that she travel north to a smaller clan by the border of Ferelden and Orlais to share her arcane knowledge with them. The elves had been pleased to find that they could live in these lands now. Some ventured into clearer areas in order to set up more permanent residences close to or within the forest, Ashalle among them, with Lanaya beginning to guide peaceful relations between the elves and the humans.

A few days later they had approached Redcliffe and Lake Calenhad. It was now the middle of the day, and they had decided to stop and rest for a while.

Renya sat with a book propped open, reading aloud to Leliana, who was smiling and helping the elf when she struggled. The elf set the book aside and leaned into the bard.

“It is so nice, not having anywhere to be,” she said, smiling when Leliana wrapped her arm around her. Elgar snuffed an agreement as he lay at their feet.

“Yes, my love. It’s wonderful.” Leliana sighed happily. “After we are done at Redcliffe, did you still want to go to the Waking Sea?”

“Yes, you have convinced me of its beauty. I cannot wait to see it!” Renya said with excitement. Leliana laughed and kissed her cheek. “And then, when we are in Orlais… I would still like to go to the Dales. There must be something of my people left there.”

Leliana nodded and gave her hand a squeeze. “Of course, my love.”

They had been traveling for months, zigzagging across Ferelden, taking in the coast of the Amaranthine Ocean and meandering through the wide open countryside, with vague plans of going to Highever to visit Elissa before traveling to see Renya’s clan. After that, they had talked about visiting Val Royeaux with the same care as one speaks about breakfast foods; they finally had the time, and they were happily using it as they pleased. The only firm decision they had made was that they would eventually build a house in one of the villages near Denerim in order to be close to Alistair and the others who had stayed in the capital, but far enough away to not be in the city that still overwhelmed the elf.

“Shall we camp here?” Renya asked a few minutes later. “I do not feel like walking any more today.”

“Then let me start a fire,” Leliana replied. They had only just set up the tent when Renya stood up, her ears twitching.

“Someone is close,” she said, drawing her sword. Leliana grabbed her bow, glancing around.

“Who is there?” Renya demanded fiercely as Elgar growled. “Declare yourself!”

“Warden-Commander?”

Renya’s heart sank as she lowered her sword.

“How did they find me?” she murmured.

A young woman in reddish armor appeared, holding her helm under her arm, although her sweaty black hair suggested she had only recently removed it. She was leading two horses behind her.

“Maker, you’re a tough woman to track,” the woman said. She saluted.

Renya returned it awkwardly. “Who are you?”

“Oh! Yes, allow me to introduce myself,” the woman said, standing up a little straighter. “I am Mhairi, a guard from Denerim and a recruit for the Grey Wardens, ser. I… I was sent to find you, ser,” she continued hurriedly, seeing Renya’s glare. “There’s… there’s been some trouble with darkspawn, and… and your presence was requested by King Alistair himself. He sends his apologies, knowing you were traveling with the Lady Leliana and didn’t wish to be disturbed.”

Renya sighed. “In Denerim, you said?” she asked in spite of herself.

“Amaranthine, ser,” Mhairi corrected. “Some Orlesian Wardens are already there, ser, but they are asking for Ferelden’s Warden-Commander to determine a course of action, this not being their country, after all.”

Renya took a deep breath. Leliana touched her shoulder gently.

“Go on,” Leliana said. “Remember I had that message from the Grand Cleric to meet with her when we were in Orlais? I will continue on to meet her, and then return to Amaranthine.”

“Not tonight,” Renya said.

“But-”

“Not tonight,” Renya said. She indicated the sun that was already on its downhill arc. “One more night,” she added. “Before duty drags me away from you again.”

***

“It will not be long this time, my love,” Leliana said the next morning. “And then we will be together again.”

Renya nodded and took the reins Mhairi handed her. She passed them to Leliana, who took them with a puzzled look, and then turned to Elgar.

“Stay with her,” she murmured in Dalish. He barked indignantly, but she shook her head. “Stay with her,” she repeated in the common language. “So I know she will be safe.”

“Renya, I-”

“See you soon, vhenan,” she murmured, kissing her. She swung herself behind Mhairi and watched over her shoulder as the soldier turned the horse toward Amaranthine. She turned around only after she saw Leliana mount her own horse and trot off in the opposite direction, Elgar by her side.

Renya sighed as she rode away with Mhairi. They had finally had time; the story had a happy ending. Why did it have to change?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the author is a cruel, cruel person... ;)
> 
> The end...?
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
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	163. Author's Notes

To my loyal, lovely readers,

First and most importantly, I want to thank you all for stopping by and embarking on Renya’s journey with her, whether you’ve been here since the beginning or hopped on board later. It’s a scary thing, putting the words you wrote out in the world, and I’m so grateful to everyone who has read these words, left a kudo, or written a comment.

I can’t believe the journey this story has been, for you, for Renya and her friends, and even for me. I started writing this story not long after I played through _Dragon Age: Origins,_ and it took me about two years to put all the words on paper. For those of your wondering, it’s about 940 single-spaced pages on Microsoft Word, with close to 400,000 words from beginning to end. But enough about stats!

It’s been great fun seeing what you have to say from chapter to chapter, and I love the questions and thoughts that I’ve gotten! So I wanted to give you all one more opportunity, now that everything is over and I don’t have to worry about spoilers, to chat.

You might have noticed that some events didn’t go exactly the way they happen in the game, from Morrigan’s ritual, to the way Renya falls in love with Leliana and how imperfect their relationship actually is, to how Alistair acts, to the fact that I added an entirely original character.

But, unlike this story, this section isn’t meant for me to be self-indulgent. So after thanking you all profusely again, I invite you to leave any comments or questions below, and I promise to respond and answer as honestly as I can.

Thank you all so much for stopping by, and I hope to see you again very soon!  
~ Athena

PS - I’ll be taking a bit of a break for a few weeks, but the story hasn’t ended. I hope you’ll join me again starting July 1 for another chapter of Renya’s story!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like thinking about stories behind the stories in video games? If so, check out and subscribe to [AmbiGaming](http://www.ambigamingcorner.com) for more!!  
> You can also support us on Patreon and access extra video-game related thoughts, or say hello over on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TheAmbiGamer)!


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